


Three Years At Sea

by orphan_account



Category: Avatar: Last Airbender
Genre: Adventure, Boats and Ships, Family, Gen, Pirates, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-10-02
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-10-24 06:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 75,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zuko adjusts to his new situation, Iroh tries to guide him, and the Universe seems content to make the prince's life as miserable as possible. Zuko's adventures on the high seas during his banishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> As of November 2016, I am making the decision to orphan this story. I'm sorry to everyone who is waiting for updates, but it's been a long time and I want to move on from my older fic. Thanks for reading, and I apologize for not ending this in a satisfying way.

"Ozai! How _dare_ you do this!" Had anyone else barged into the Firelord's chambers in such a state, the guards would have apprehended him immediately. But only a fool laid a hand on the Dragon of the West when he was in this rare mood. Iroh nearly ripped the door off its hinges in his anger, but there were unshed tears in his eyes as he confronted the man that looked out the window at the fire lilies in the courtyard.

"I do not answer to you."

"He is just a boy! Your own son!"

"Not anymore."

Iroh frowned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "So, you are just going to throw him out into the world with nothing. No friends, no family, no hope. You have already hurt and humiliated him in front of the entire court. You have banished him only to satisfy your sick, twisted pride. _How much lower will you stoop?_ "

Ozai whirled around to face his brother, his usually handsome features distorted with hatred. "How dare _you_ address your Firelord—"

"Do you think I have forgotten what you did to gain that title?" Iroh reminded him quietly. Ozai's expression shifted from rage to a look of uncomfortable surprise. The older man shrugged. "You and I both know that I never wanted the throne for myself. But I'm sure the Fire Sages, your nobles, your generals, everyone in the Fire Nation, and your allies in the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes… I'm sure they would be _very_ interested to know how that happened." He smiled slightly. Ozai's frown deepened. Instinctively, his hands clenched, the first two fingers extended as energy crackled around the room. "And before you think of using any lightning, know that the secret will not die with me. In fact… it will come alive."

There was a long silence between them. Finally, Ozai stood up straight and clasped his hands behind his back.

"I will not renounce his banishment. It was witnessed by the Fire Sages and the entire court," said the Firelord at length, a small sneer crinkling the side of his nose.

"I was not asking you to. The best thing for Zuko is for him to be away from this poisonous place," Iroh muttered. "But he will need resources. A ship and crew."

"I'm sure there's an old battleship down at the docks that won't be missed," Ozai said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "He may have one ship. If something happens to it, there will not be another. He will have to find his own crew."

"Very well. He will need money, too. And a decent retinue of soldiers and firebenders."

Ozai beckoned to a nearby servant, who immediately acquired writing materials. "I will set a yearly budget. If he exceeds it, it will be up to him to make up the difference. And as for soldiers… you were the Dragon of the West. I'm sure there are some who are still foolish enough to follow you to the ends of the earth." The servant wrote down Ozai's orders and handed the scroll to Iroh with a bow once the ink dried. The Firelord turned back to the window and Iroh departed, neither of them saying another word.

Iroh unrolled the paper on his way out. One ship and a surprisingly generous yearly allowance. In spite of him self, the old general smiled a little. Did his brother have one last vestige of humanity in him after all? One ounce of conscience that pricked his mummified heart enough to make him show this last small bit of kindness to his son? Perhaps.

* * *

The guards would soon be coming to enforce Zuko's banishment. Iroh calculated that he had two hours at most to at least get the ship and maybe a skeleton crew of sailors to pilot it. The rest would have to be taken care of at a port in the colonies. That was all they would be seeing of the Fire Nation for a very long time. Ill-gotten territory and backwoods outposts. Iroh sighed, shook his head, and started to make his way out of the palace.

Ozai had been serious when he said that he would allow Zuko to have a ship that wouldn't be missed. The only such ship on the island was a small, elderly warship, scarred from battle and warped from long years at sea in all kinds of weather. It wasn't the most efficient ship ever engineered—a significant portion of the yearly allowance would have to go towards coal, maintenance, and a mechanic who was up to the task of taking care of the outmoded engines. The cabins, as they were now, were bare and uncomfortable, but that would be fixed soon. A good cook could perhaps coax tasty meals out of that excuse for a galley, and a pai sho table in the bridge would make a nice, homey touch. Anywhere could be homey, as long as there was tea and pai sho.

Even so, Iroh knew these vessels. This was a good model, sturdy and reliable and reasonably fast. The ship's age would be its only problem. He laughed to himself—he certainly knew about the problems that came with age. And there even turned out to be a few perks that came with the ship: one decent catapult and a smaller steam-driven boat. Excellent. And Iroh had the good fortune to run into a couple of old acquaintances outside a tavern just off the docks, passably decent men who would get the ship to wherever Zuko planned to go. His nephew, Iroh knew, would have taken the task seriously. To him, finding the Avatar was _not_ a way to get him out of the Fire Nation for good, as most everyone who had witnessed the Firelord's verdict soon realized. It was a goal to be achieved.

Although Iroh had his doubts, he would help Zuko in any way he could. He owed that to the boy, at least.

 _I never should have let him go into that meeting_ , he thought for the hundredth time that day, looking out across the prow of the ship as it motored slowly out of its mooring and headed in the direction of the capital.

They made it back just in time for Iroh to slip past the armed guards who were marching up to Zuko's room. He would collect the prince himself. No need for the guards to get involved.

The door was slightly ajar when he arrived. He pushed it open to see Zuko sitting at the foot of his bed, head bowed, arms clasped tightly around himself. He was already dressed in armor and had a small traveling bag slung across one shoulder. He looked up when Iroh entered. His right eye shone with a feverish light. If he had been crying, he didn't show it. The left side of his face was covered in a thick white bandage—Iroh's hands curled into fists at the thought of what lay underneath it. The thought of what Ozai had done to his own son.

"Uncle." His voice—hollow.

"Come with me, Prince Zuko. There is a ship waiting for us at the harbor. _Your_ ship," he added. Zuko stood uncertainly, swaying on his feet. Iroh gripped his shoulder before he fell. The sound of the approaching guards reached their ears before long. "Let's go. The guards need not see you out." Zuko nodded.

"But… you're not banished. Why are you doing this?"

"No nephew of mine is leaving the Fire Nation without some backup. And besides, you haven't mastered firebending yet. It would be irresponsible to send you out into the world without a teacher." He neglected to mention that it was because of his own irresponsibility that any of this had happened at all.

"Thank you, Uncle."

He was grimly silent all the way to the harbor. His jaw was set both out of determination and physical pain, and by the time they were on the ship, beads of sweat stood out on his freshly-shaved head. His already pale skin was even whiter than usual, and his breath came in short gasps. He needed to rest.

The gangplank retracted. The ship was off as soon as it was completely closed.

Zuko watched the retreating shore from the deck for hours, until it faded from sight entirely. They passed the Gates of Azulon and the blockade, and with that, they left the Fire Nation entirely, never to return.

Never to return without the Avatar, that is.

* * *

"Prince Zuko. You have been out here for hours. You should come and have some food and get some sleep."

"I'm not hungry. And I'm not tired." Zuko continued to stare out in the direction of the Fire Nation, even though they had passed the blockade hours ago and night had fallen. It was a beautiful night—cool, with clear skies, glittering stars and a full moon, but Zuko did not notice any of that. All he saw was what he had lost.

"You need to keep up your strength. You have had a very long day, and we can't have you getting sick." Iroh came up beside him, hands tucked into his sleeves. Zuko didn't answer. Iroh sighed—he knew this would happen. His nephew was as stubborn as he was hot-headed. He would have to cave eventually, though. Even if he spent his whole life searching for the Avatar, he couldn't go that long without food or sleep.

"It is a beautiful night," Iroh said after a prolonged silence.

"I guess so," Zuko replied at length.

"How are you feeling?"

"…Fine." The prince carefully touched the bandage over his face and winced. Even the lightest touch caused sparks of pain to lance across the burn. He hadn't seen the burn before it was treated and dressed and he couldn't tell how bad it was. But the pain seemed to extend from the inner corner of his eye to beyond his ear, up past his hairline (or where his hairline would have been had his head not been shaved in disgrace) and down past his cheekbone. Some parts of it were strangely numb, but others felt like they were still on fire. It didn't go away when he removed his hand, nor could he forget about it by focusing on something else.

"Come. At least have some tea. You can't stay out here all night."

"I will if I want to." Zuko's fingers curled around the railing, tightening his grip until his knuckles turned white.

"As your firebending master, I instruct you to take some time for your well-being. But as your uncle, I _ask_ you to. Please." A heavy hand rested on Zuko's shoulder. Slowly, he released his death grip on the railing and nodded once. He allowed himself to be led inside, but the cold pit that had formed in his stomach didn't go away, even though the ship was warm, heated by the huge coal-burning engines below decks.

"I had your room set up earlier," Iroh said as they ascended some stairs to the third floor. He opened a door and motioned for Zuko to go inside.

Zuko's eye widened in surprise. Everything was there—his desk, his clothes chest, even his little altar with its four half-melted candles and the dragon mask that hung over it. The wall hangings with the fire motif weren't his, but Uncle had probably put them up so the steel walls wouldn't seem so bare. The low table in the middle of the room was also new, as was the fluffy futon in the corner.

"I hope you will like it," Iroh said, taking Zuko's stunned silence as adequate thanks. "Now take off that armor and sit down before you fall over. You look pale."

Not long later, the smell of fresh jasmine tea filled the small cabin. Iroh placed a steaming cup in Zuko's hand and made sure he drank the whole thing before pouring his own cup.

"I'm a failure, Uncle." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Iroh looked sharply up at him.

"Why would you say that?"

"I got banished." He looked down at his empty cup. The cold pit in his stomach was growing.

"That does not make you a failure. No, quite the contrary, in fact." He offered the prince a bowl of fruit, which was ignored. "What you did that led to your banishment proved you are a hero twice over. It is too bad your father does not appreciate human decency."

"I'm not a hero, I'm an idiot," Zuko said bitterly.

"You can be both. Intelligence is nothing without courage, and sometimes courage requires momentary stupidity."

"You're wrong! I'm an idiot _and_ a coward, and everyone knows it! I'm a disgrace to the Fire Nation!"

 _If only the Fire Nation had more "disgraces" like you,_ Iroh thought. _You are already twice the man your father was when he was at his best._ But he said nothing.

"There's only one thing I can do." Zuko closed his eye, frowning. "I'm going to capture the Avatar. I need my honor back, and that's the only way to do it. Uncle, where do you think is a good place to start looking?"

"In my opinion? I think the Avatar is long gone. But if you want to look, I'll go with you."

"We'll start at the Western Air Temple. We know that the Avatar is an airbender, so we should start there. How long will it take to get there?"

"Only a few days, but we need to make port and supply the ship beforehand. We will need a proper crew and enough soldiers to keep the ship defended. All of this will be expensive at first, so you will need to budget your allowance month to month."

"How long is this going to take? The Avatar—"

"The Avatar has been missing for a hundred years. I'm sure he can wait to be captured for a few more weeks," Iroh said with a smile. "It is late. You need rest. We can continue to talk about this in the morning."

* * *

Sleep eluded Zuko that night. His thoughts were consumed with the Avatar, and when they weren't, they were consumed with how much pain he was in. His preferred sleeping position—lying on his left side—was no longer an option, and his face ached with grating, burning agony even when it wasn't in contact with the pillow. The dull roar of the engines was inescapable as well. It was so different from the silence and safety of the palace, a rickety old warship going out into the wide world.

The Western Air Temple. Maybe they would find something there, even though everyone knew that nobody lived there anymore. After all, what better place to hide than somewhere that had been deserted for a century?

Zuko gave up trying to sleep. He threw his blanket aside, went out into the red-lit hallways, and started up to the next floor where he knew the bridge was. He could hear Uncle snoring in the room next to his. Sounds were muffled in his left ear, whether by the injury or the bandage he couldn't tell. He hoped it was the latter.

The bridge was deserted, for now. Zuko looked around in cabinets and cubby holes until he found what he was looking for: maps and charts. He even found a log from the former captain of the ship. It, and the charts, were about thirty years old. The Fire Nation had acquired some new colonies since then, but everything else was in its proper place.

He took all the papers back to his room and spread them out on the table. The helmsman would probably need them eventually, but he would just have to wait.

There was a physical map of the land and ocean, a political map (some borders would have to be penciled in), a map of the stars, and individual maps of all the four nations. There was even a map of Ba Sing Se as it looked thirty years ago. The city was big enough to be a nation all on its own, and Zuko sincerely hoped that the Avatar had not taken refuge there. Even Uncle had not been able to penetrate those walls, not with all of Fire Lord Azulon's strongest armies at his disposal.

He squinted in the dim room. Reading was hard enough in this light, and now he had to do it with one eye (his stronger eye, no less!) masked with bandages.

"If I want to find the Avatar, I have to learn to navigate the world," he said to himself. "The sea, the stars, the land, everything. This ship is my home now, but the world is my country." He pulled out the map of the Fire Nation and stared at it for a long time. The places on the map he knew so well seemed so far away. The beautiful, powerful capital where he was born and raised. Within the capital, the palace. He knew all the secret passageways, all the hiding places. He and Mai found them all during a typhoon when they were kids, when they were stuck inside until the winds died down. And off the coast, Ember Island, home of his fondest childhood memories. His family hadn't been there in years, but the memories were still as strong as ever.

His old country. His _former_ country. But it would be his country again. It was his destiny. He would hunt the Avatar, he would find the Avatar, and his father would welcome him back home.

His good eye stung a little. He pushed the map of the Fire Nation to one side and got to work studying the map of the stars.


	2. The First Stop

They reached the nearest Fire Nation port at dawn. Iroh went to Zuko's room to wake him up as soon as the ship docked, but found the prince already awake and studying a large pile of maps.

"Did you sleep well, Prince Zuko?"

The boy didn't answer.

"We are at port," Iroh continued. "You should come ashore and make sure that everything goes smoothly. Remember, this is your ship, and it is your responsibility to make sure that it is seaworthy and that your money is spent well. And perhaps we can find something good to eat, too."

Half an hour later, the two of them descended the gangplank and went into town. The first order of business was to post a sign in the square, declaring that they were looking for certain talents and would pay slightly more than the going rate. They both knew that any soldiers who would go with them would probably be banished themselves, though maybe Iroh could exert a bit of influence as the Fire Nation's most legendary living general to get a few still-honorable men to join them.

By mid-afternoon, the ship was manned by six firebenders, seven ordinary soldiers, two engineers, a mechanic, a doctor, a cook, a communications officer, and a lieutenant named Jee, a firebender, very prone to complaining, who had been relieved of his command when he had lost a ship to a crude Water Tribe mine. He was happy to have his rank restored by a person no less than General Iroh, and thus they had no trouble getting someone to command the ship of a mere banished prince.

By now, the news of Zuko's banishment was common knowledge. However, the official press release was a little… creative with the events of the previous day.

As workers carried spare parts, weapons, food, and Iroh's carefully-selected pai sho table aboard, Zuko examined the broadsides posted outside the dockside taverns, the frown that had been on his face since yesterday deepening with each passing word.

 _By Order of Firelord Ozai, Prince Zuko is henceforth banished from the Fire Nation and his royal birthright is revoked until the Firelord sees fit to restore it_ , the report began truthfully. _The Prince received this punishment for insulting the great General Bujing's military leadership. No challenge was issued on the General's part, as the Prince had already sustained a serious injury during a training exercise the previous day._

Zuko touched his bandage. A _training accident_? How dare they say such a thing!

"Everything is ready, Prince Zuko," said Uncle's voice from somewhere behind him. "We are supplied and ready to start on our trip…" He walked over, seeing Zuko deep in thought. He looked over the press release and laid a hand on his nephew's armored shoulder once again. "More lies from the capital," he said dryly. "What a surprise. Let's go. You have been on your feet for too long today already. You should try to rest as much as possible while we are on our way to the air temple."

"I don't have time to be lazy," Zuko snapped. "The whole world thinks I'm weak already. I will not prove them right!"

"Resting for your health is not weakness or laziness. I just hope you will not have to learn this the hard way. Come on, there's no reason to stay here any longer now that we have everything we need. I thought you were eager to get going," Iroh added with a smile.

* * *

Back on the ship, Zuko ignored Iroh's advice and decided to practice his firebending on the deck instead of getting some rest. He had been doing fire fists and fire kicks for an hour when his uncle appeared at the door, hands in his sleeves and looking concerned.

"Dinner is ready in your room, Prince Zuko. This cook really is worth the gold we pay him… his unagi rolls are excellent." Zuko launched another burst of fire into the air. Iroh waited, but he didn't say anything. "You can't go on like this. You haven't eaten all day, and you didn't eat yesterday, either. Starving yourself will not find the Avatar any sooner."

"I have to be ready. The Avatar has had a hundred years to master all the elements."

"Come and eat. And then you can go back to practicing."

Zuko went grudgingly, and only had a couple of bites of food and half a cup of tea before going back out again. He practiced all evening until he was almost too tired to move, and then he went back to his room to meditate. Ever since he was young, he had been taught that meditation was the key to stronger firebending. And he needed to be as strong as possible.

He sat down in front of the altar and lit the candles. He practiced his deep breathing, hands clasped in his lap, eye focused on the dragon mask. _You are a dragon_ , he thought, as he had been instructed. Become one with the fire. Become as close to it as possible. Become like a dragon. The candle flames grew and shrank with his breath. _You are strong like a dragon. You are not weak. You are not a failure._

* * *

They spent the next five days at sea on the way to the Western Air Temple. Each day was the same: after getting two or three hours of fitful sleep, Zuko would get up in the middle of the night to study or meditate until morning. Then Iroh would urge him to have some breakfast, but Zuko would instead go outside and practice his firebending until lunchtime, when Iroh would again try to tempt him with the cook's excellent cuisine. By that time, Zuko's hunger usually got the better of him, but he could only stomach a few bites of rice before he went below decks to practice his sword and spear work. His weapons and his firebending were both sloppy. Being able to use only one eye meant that he was uncoordinated and his depth perception was way off, leading to wide swings and fire blasts that went nowhere instead of square hits to the man-sized metal practice dummy.

After struggling at that for a while, he would go inside and meditate again, but before long his meditation usually devolved into sulking. At mid-afternoon, Iroh always requested that Zuko let the ship's doctor see to his wound, to change the dressing and make sure the burn was not infected. But Zuko brushed off the advice, insisting that he would see to it himself later. He never did, instead devoting his time to studying. The captain's log in particular was very informative, and from it the prince learned more nautical terminology, how to write a proper log entry, and the sorts of strategies employed by the captain of the ship when it was in its prime.

At dinner, Iroh managed to force Zuko to eat enough to keep him alive and to drink whatever calming herbal tea the old general fancied that day. Afterwards, Zuko meditated some more and tried to rest, but the cycle started all over again when he failed to even fall asleep.

By the time they reached the Western Air Temple, everyone but Zuko himself could see that he was unwell.

His skin was gray and slick with sweat. His good eye was puffy and bloodshot, and he couldn't walk more than a few yards without having to hold onto a wall to keep from falling over. The skin that peeked out from under his bandage was dangerously pink, and Iroh knew that he had to do something about his nephew's stubbornness, and soon.

Even so, his right eye was bright and his mood had improved slightly when they reached their destination. Zuko wanted to rappel down into the canyon, but couldn't due to his reduced hand-eye coordination and dismal depth perception. In addition, he felt strangely dizzy, and thus wisely decided to follow his uncle's advice and find a path so he could walk down to the temple instead.

"What a stunning view," Iroh said, smiling as he looked out at the canyon. There were dozens of upside-down pagodas hanging from the cliffs, most in varying states of disrepair, though some were as handsome as they had been the day the Air Nomads had disappeared. A few were no more than worn spars of rock jutting down into the abyss. Statues and frescoes remained, the only remnants of the temple's past inhabitants.

"The only view I'm interested in seeing is the Avatar in chains," Zuko retorted.

"Prince Zuko." Iroh sounded weary. "It's only been a week since your banishment. You should take some time to heal and rest." Zuko had been ignoring this advice ever since they left the Fire Nation, but Iroh would not give up.

"What else would I expect to hear from the laziest man in the Fire Nation?" Zuko said, sneering in a way that made him look disconcertingly like his father. "The only way I can regain my honor is to capture the Avatar. So I will."

Iroh sighed and shook his head. "You are not well, my nephew. If you keep this up, you won't be able to find the Avatar at all."

"I'm fine! I don't need to rest!" He turned back to the incredible view and stared blankly out at the low-lying clouds that filled the canyon. "First we'll search all the air temples, and then we'll scour the world, searching even the most remote locations until we find him. I know it's my destiny."

"You know, destiny is a funny thing. It never turns out quite how you expect. But if you keep an open mind and an open heart, I promise you will find your own destiny someday." Iroh's hand on his shoulder was comforting in a way that Zuko would never admit, not even to himself. He didn't want to admit that he needed anyone, or that he needed anyone to comfort him. But he was grateful that Uncle had come along. If he had not come, Zuko would be alone and boatless in some backwater colony, with not even a scrap of hope. At least this way he still had someone reminding him who he was whenever he addressed him.

Zuko diligently searched the whole temple. Iroh tagged along to appreciate the forgotten art treasures left behind by time. He would have loved to see the majestic sky bison, before they had been hunted to extinction, just like the dragons and the Air Nomads themselves.

To absolutely no one's surprise or dismay but Zuko's, they did not find the Avatar at the Western Air Temple. When they returned to the ship that night, Zuko again refused food, this time because he found that the mere smell of it made him nauseous.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 1/16/13: I've edited out the stuff with Jeong Jeong because it was stupid. If you're coming into the story after this edit: thank your lucky stars you don't know what I'm talking about. :P


	3. Convalescence

Two days later, they were en route to the Northern Air Temple and Iroh's worry had turned to desperation.

"Please, Prince Zuko!" he called to the boy, who stood hunched over the railing just outside his room. "You need to let the doctor help you! You are going to kill yourself if you keep this up!" Zuko whirled around, his eye wide and bright with fever. His lips were dry and cracked.

"I am _not_ weak," he insisted in a hoarse whisper. He brushed past Iroh, ran down the narrow staircase, and stormed out onto the deck with the older man in tow.

"Taking care of yourself is not weakness!" Iroh shouted. The words were now familiar—he had uttered them at least twice a day since Zuko had first showed signs of illness.

"What do you know! Nothing! I don't need help! I don't need you or anyone else! I only need one thing, and I will not rest until I find him!" Zuko staggered to the side of the ship and looked out at the water. "We're not too far from the Northern Air Temple. I can make it."

 _I hoped it wouldn't come to this,_ Iroh thought as he reached deep into his sleeve. _I don't know if these are safe for use on humans, but I don't have a choice if he's going to insist on doing this to himself…_ He pulled a short, hollow piece of bamboo and a canister of shirshu spit darts out of his sleeve. Carefully, he loaded a single dart into the bamboo tube and lifted it to his lips. Taking careful aim at the back of Zuko's bald head, he let out a sharp puff of air—

Zuko felt something prick the back of his head. The next think he knew, his limbs seized up and he dropped with a heavy thud to the deck.

"Uncle? What did you do to me? Why can't I move?" He tried to fight as Iroh picked him up and carried him back inside, but his body was completely unresponsive.

"If you will not take care of yourself voluntarily, then I will help you against your will."

"Put me down!"

"No."

Zuko struggled in vain all the way back to his room. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't even manage to make his fingers twitch. Even worse, numbness began to spread slowly all over his body, to the point where only the things that he could see or hear let him know that he was still alive.

"What did you do to me?" he asked again, although this time his words were not demanding so much as pleading. Iroh didn't answer. Once they were in Zuko's room, Iroh laid him down on the bed and sent for the doctor. When he arrived with his bag, he shut and bolted the door behind him. Iroh took up a post near Zuko's paralyzed feet while the doctor got busy removing the bandages on the prince's face.

"You let this go too long without attention, sir," the doctor said as he peeled layers of cloth away from the burn. Zuko gasped—the numbness hadn't completely spread to his face yet. "And look! Now it's infected. Hopefully it hasn't progressed too far already." The pain was intense—almost as bad as the moment of the original injury—when the doctor peeled off the final layer. Zuko gritted his teeth and squeezed his good eye shut, just waiting for it to be over. But the pain didn't stop when the burn was exposed to the air.

"We'll have to cut off some of this burned skin," the doctor said, mostly to himself. He got a sharp knife out of his bag. "Can you open your eye?" Zuko struggled against the pain, but managed to open his left eye just a crack. After over a week without using it, the dim light burned it as if he were looking straight into the sun, and he closed it again.

"I can see," he gasped. It hurt, and he couldn't tell if his eyesight had been affected, but he hadn't lost the eye after all! Even Azula had been wrong, for once! Her constant tormenting about how he would have to live as a one-eyed beggar for the rest of his life had been nothing more than Azula being Azula!

Luckily, the numbness in whatever poison Iroh had used on him spread to his face just before the doctor took his knife to it. Still, he couldn't tear his good eye away from the sight of blackened strips of flesh being cut away from the wound.

When that was finished, the doctor applied a warm, moist, herbal-smelling compress to his eye and tied it in place. Like the first bandage, this dressing went all the way past his ear.

"I will be coming back to change that periodically," he said. "I hope you will be more cooperative at that time."

"If he isn't, I'll paralyze him again," Iroh said. Zuko scowled.

Before the doctor left, he gave Zuko some nasty medicine and an equally nasty cup of medicinal tea. Afterwards, Iroh removed the prince's armor and covered him with a blanket, a gesture of care that Zuko would have tried to shrug off had he been able to move. The old general sat down next to the bed and began to brew ginseng tea. Once again, the prince tried to move, and discovered to his surprise that he could wiggle his fingers and toes. Soon he would be able to get up and resume his search!

"I hope you will try to get some sleep, now that you don't have a choice but to rest," Iroh said with a small smile. "I tried to let you seek help on your own. But since you refused to do that, I had to intervene for your own good." He poured some water from a nearby pitcher into a cup. "Drink this. You are sick, and your fever has dehydrated you."

Zuko would not admit it, but he did feel thirsty. Iroh pressed the cup to his lips and he drank without complaint.

"Uncle, why are you doing this?"

"I already told you. No nephew of mine is searching for the Avatar without some backup." Iroh smiled. Zuko managed a grimace in return. "Now rest. It should be easy now that you can't do anything else."

Sure enough, without charts to study or firebending to practice, Zuko soon realized just how tired he was. He drifted off before the tea was ready, leaving Iroh to enjoy the gourmet brew alone with a satisfied, yet bittersweet, smile on his face. Memories of his beloved Lu Ten sprang into his mind as he watched Zuko sleep—Lu Ten had been very similar at thirteen, stubborn and impulsive, but good-hearted. Hopefully Zuko's blind devotion to his father would not remove that side of him, just as permanently as the Earth Kingdom's finest benders had removed Lu Ten's life.

* * *

Zuko was weak for a long time—days passed before he was strong enough to get out of bed for more than an hour or two at a time. Even after that, he spent much of his time sleeping, the fever coming and going a handful of times before it finally broke for good. The doctor came regularly to treat the wound. Were it not for Iroh, sitting next to Zuko's bed and holding a short piece of bamboo and a canister of darts, the prince would have tried to fight the doctor off.

The doctor instructed Zuko to open his eye each time he changed the bandages. It was always the same—too bright, very painful, no real vision.

Even from his bed, Zuko studied. He read about how his ship worked, how it transformed coal into power to cut through the ocean. He read about the signals Fire Navy ships used to communicate with each other and with foreign ships. He even read the old scrolls that Iroh had collected—some were more relevant than others; the scroll on ancient tea blends, for example, was not what Zuko was interested in. He was only interested in what would help him capture the Avatar.

Deep down, he knew that each of the remaining air temples was surely as empty and Avatar-less as the first, leaving Zuko more and more frustrated with each passing day. Iroh let his nephew have his short-sighted teenage anger, knowing that eventually he would learn that not everything had an easy solution.

As soon as he was well, he returned to his training. Slowly, his aim improved, but when he sparred with the other firebenders, even the weakest among them managed to make good use of Zuko's poor eyesight and defeat him without much effort. The situation didn't get any better when the bandages came off for good.

* * *

The doctor hooded the lights in Zuko's room so that only the faintest red glow shone through the darkness. His kit was already laid out on the table and Zuko sat quietly in shallow meditation, ready for whatever pain he might—no, _certainly would_ —experience.

"It will be too bright at first," the doctor said as he unwound the bandage from Zuko's head. The prince already knew this very well. "Your eye has been closed for weeks and it has become used to darkness." Zuko forced himself to stop hoping. He knew that he probably wouldn't be able to see out of it, after the fever. He had read enough medical scrolls by now to know that.

The warm air inside the cabin felt cool on the still-raw left side of his face when the cloth pad was removed. Some parts of the burn, especially the edges, were very tender, but other areas seemed to have no feeling at all, as if Uncle had shot them with his darts. His hearing seemed undamaged, thank the Universe. He didn't think he would be able to lose his hearing _and_ his sight on the same day.

At the doctor's bidding, Zuko struggled to open his eye. Strange—he'd never had to consciously think about which muscles to use before.

The eyelids parted the tiniest crack.

Blinding light flooded in, the cabin's dull light seeming like the sun, as usual. Zuko shut his eye against the flash of bright pain.

"I can see," he said, unable to keep the wonder and relief out of his voice. "I can still see."

"Excellent," said the doctor, pleased. "Try blinking a few times. It will adjust to the light with time."

Zuko blinked furiously. He forced the pain out of his mind, just as he had done every day since the Agni Kai. Try as he might, he couldn't make the eye open as wide as his right, but after several minutes, the room started to take shape where before there had only been burning light. But the room didn't come into focus.

"What can you see?"

"A bunch of blurs. The light is a pink blur, you're a dark blur…" Zuko frowned. "Is this permanent?"

"I don't think so. Though I can't say now how much your vision will improve—the injury was very severe, and there could have been extensive damage due to the fever, as well. It is fortunate that you can see anything at all."

 _I won't expect too much_ , Zuko told himself. He lifted his hand to the fresh scar. As he had suspected before, some parts hurt more than others—like any firebender, he knew that the worst burns did not hurt at all. His eyebrow and eyelashes were long gone. His hand moved back to his ear… or the twisted nubbin of scarred flesh that remained.

He knew it was ugly. Probably horrifically so. But he wasn't ready to look in a mirror just yet. He didn't remove his hand until the doctor slid a small crock of salve towards him.

"This will keep the skin soft as it continues to heal. Apply it both morning and night."

Zuko nodded silently. He stayed sitting long after the doctor left, absently tracing the characters stamped into the lid of the crock.

He sat for two hours before he finally got up and looked in the mirror.

A bald, scarred stranger stared back at him. He wracked his brain for an image of what he had looked like before. He remembered a wide-eyed, dark-haired boy and tried to convince himself that the face in the mirror and the face in his mind were the same.

He tried, and failed.

The prince emerged from his room some time later and made his way to the bridge, acting as though the bandages were still in place and as though he couldn't see the reactions of the crew members he passed. Some were more obvious than others. A few stared outright, some averted their eyes, but most waited until they thought he couldn't see them, and _then_ they stared.

Zuko's expression had collapsed into his usual frown by the time he walked onto the bridge. Uncle was there, playing pai sho as usual. Something unwound in Zuko's chest, seeing him there.

Not that he was relieved, or anything. Certainly not.

"Any news of the Avatar, Lieutenant?" he asked, walking over to where the captain of the guard and Lieutenant Jee were deep in conversation over a heavily-marked map of the Eastern Earth Kingdom. Zuko noticed that when the man looked up, he made eye contact, not scar-contact.

"We have two leads, sir," he said. "There's a rumor that a small group of Air Nomads have been hiding near this village…" he pointed to the spot on the map, "and someone claiming to be the Avatar was seen here." He pointed to a small city a few miles further inland.

"We'll check the village first. Set a course." The helmsman complied.

Zuko went outside, already tired of being around other people. Why had it been so much easier with a bandage?

Once he was sure Zuko was out of earshot, Captain Hong turned to Lieutenant Jee, frowning slightly.

"That doesn't look like any training accident I've ever seen," he said quietly. Behind their backs, Iroh shook his head, brow furrowed.


	4. Blind Sides and Birthdays

Zuko had a long way to go. His injury had left his entire left side vulnerable—over the next few days, his eyesight improved a bit, but everything was still a big blur in his left eye and the scar held his eyelid in a permanent squint, no matter how much salve he rubbed into it every morning and night. He had almost no peripheral vision on that side, and he still struggled with depth perception and hand-eye coordination.

He seldom looked in the mirror. He knew what he looked like and didn't think it was necessary to constantly remind himself. In time, he learned to shave his head and tie his ponytail without looking. He tended his scar with salve while studying at night—no mirror required. Unconsciously, he avoided any reflective surfaces, from the blades of weapons in storage to the water that surrounded the ship, from Uncle's favorite silver teapot to the windows on the bridge.

His illness had left him thin and feeble. But he never stopped training, and continued to practice even long after his sparring partners had all gone inside. Iroh feared that he was beginning to neglect his own health again, but the prince had learned his lesson. He ate three meals a day (with increasing gusto, Iroh noticed) and slept every night, but with each passing day his expression grew harder. Harder and older. His new situation required him to grow up quickly.

Spring began to blossom into summer. Everyone on the ship was quietly homesick for the heat and humidity of the Fire Nation, so they spent the days around the solstice lurking as close to the blockade as they dared. They saw other ships quite often, and, depending on who their commanding officers were, the two ships would pull up alongside each other to exchange news. But there was one ship that Zuko was never happy to see. Every time it passed by (always at a very obnoxious proximity), he stood with arms akimbo at the prow of his ship, frowning defiantly up at the smirking mug of Captain Zhao.

* * *

"Watch your left side, Prince Zuko," Iroh advised his nephew from the sidelines while he and Corporal Shang sparred on the deck one especially bright afternoon. "You're favoring it again. Your attacks must be strong from all directions, or your opponent will take advantage of you."

"I'm trying," Zuko spat. He lashed out with a torrent of angry fire, sacrificing his balance in the process.

"No! Do not let yourself become unbalanced. You must be steady and grounded. Without balance, you cannot reach your strongest potential. Drill the exercise again, and remember to be balanced in all your motions." Zuko shot him an angry look, but complied.

Without realizing it, he neglected his left side once again. Flames licked his arm, and his sleeve caught on fire. Zuko growled and bent the fire out of his shirt.

"I can't do this! I can't see anything on my left side when I'm firebending! This is stupid!" The prince stomped off to the opposite side of the ship and stared out at the clear blue ocean. Iroh and Corporal Shang just shrugged at each other.

"You must learn to use your senses other than sight to keep your left side defended," Iroh said, unfazed by Zuko's outburst. "The sound of your opponent's feet on the deck. The feel of the fire's heat next to you. Learn to read his motions, not just his fire. Then you can predict the direction of his attacks before they happen." He stroked his beard. There had to be a way to teach him to not rely so much on his sight… ah! The methods of certain earthbenders would be of use here. Only a few of them practiced this way, it not being a part of the accepted earthbending canon, but those who did were unstoppable.

Quietly, he came up behind Zuko, snatched the prince's belt right off his waist, and tied it around his eyes—an impromptu blindfold.

"What are you doing!"

"Run the exercise one more time. This time, focus on your instincts. Trust what you know, listen carefully, and use _all_ of your senses."

Zuko scowled behind the blindfold. He returned to his starting position, took a fighting stance, and raised his hands. A bead of sweat rolled down his head. (For the life of him, Iroh could not understand why Zuko insisted on maintaining the clean shave, with the exception of his ponytail, that he had received upon his banishment.) Corporal Shang looked at Iroh with a puzzled expression, but Iroh smiled and nodded benignly, inviting the firebender to proceed as normal.

It went better than Iroh had hoped. Zuko wasn't on fire once he was finished, but he had received a shiny pink burn on his left forearm. He had learned a bad habit of ignoring his left side in favor of strong attacks from his right, a habit that would have to be unlearned _soon_.

* * *

Summer progressed, and Zuko turned fourteen. He had already made it abundantly clear that he did _not_ want any special attention on that day, but Iroh still went out to check the shops in the small Earth Kingdom town where they stopped to resupply, hoping to find something that his nephew would like.

He found just the thing, and kept it hidden until after dinner.

Zuko frowned a little when dinner was served—he had specifically said that he didn't want his birthday to be acknowledged in any way, and yet some of his favorite foods had made their way onto the table. Even komodo chicken, which Uncle didn't like. But even Zuko's newly-permanent frown couldn't stay for long when there were fried honey cakes for dessert.

"I found something today that might help you with this problem you've been having with your firebending," Iroh said casually, reaching under the table. Zuko raised his remaining eyebrow. Without any further ado, Iroh brought out a short, curved sword in a worn leather scabbard. Both the hilt and the scabbard were worked with a bronze inlay that subtly suggested flames. "Take a look," he added as he handed the sword over the table.

Zuko unsheathed it, only to be surprised by two swords instead of one. They fit together perfectly, like two halves of a single weapon.

"They are called dao," Iroh explained. "They are meant to be wielded as one. Each sword's movement is complimentary to the other. Both your right and left hands take turns attacking and defending, making it so no part of your body is left undefended."

"How will this help me?" Zuko asked, still skeptical. Even so, he liked the feel of the leather grips in his hands.

"If you train with these swords, you will learn to trust your left side again. You will get used to attacking and defending with your left hand, just as you do with your right." The old general smiled and sipped his tea. "You will become an excellent firebender as you become an excellent swordsman. May I?" Zuko nodded and handed the swords back. Iroh took one in each hand and moved to the center of the room. "They do not move independently of each other," he explained as he demonstrated a few attacks. "You use both, or neither. Both for attacking," he sliced the air in a wide semi-circle, "and for defending." He crossed the swords in front of his chest before returning them to his nephew and sitting back down at the table.

Zuko nodded and sheathed the swords. "Thank you, Uncle. I'll try it."

After the table was cleared and Iroh went back to his own room, Zuko still sat looking at the swords, running his hands over the bronze decorations and the dark finish of the leather scabbard. He had never heard of these kind of swords before—they didn't use them in the Fire Nation. And of what he had seen of the Earth Kingdom so far, it didn't seem like they were very popular there, either. Maybe they came from further inland, near Ba Sing Se. Land Uncle knew very well.

If they really could help him… Unconsciously, Zuko lifted his hand to his face and touched the fresh scar. By now, he had accepted the fact that it would never be the same. Neither his eyebrow nor the outer edge of his ear were ever growing back, and that eye would be able to see only a fraction of what it used to. He had to learn to adjust. And maybe these swords were the way to do it. The thought of being a firebending failure for the rest of his life scared him almost as much as the thought that he would never be able to go home.

"I'll do it," he said quietly.

* * *

Zuko took his new swords below decks the very next morning. He felt a little silly, so he went to practice in an empty cargo hold where no one would see him flailing around with weapons he didn't know how to use.

Under the dim red lights, he unsheathed the swords, took one in each hand, and got a feel for their weight and balance. They fit his hands perfectly, almost like they became extensions of his arms when he held them. These were quality swords.

"The movements are complimentary to each other." Zuko's voice echoed in the empty hold. He took a fighting stance and tried to think about how he could apply his knowledge of the straight sword to his practice with dual swords. "Never leave a part of your body undefended." He slashed out with the right sword, and held the left sword up in front of his face. "Offense… and defense." He tried the opposite, attacking with the left and defending with the right. "If I just remember what attacking with the right feels like, even if I can't see my left hand very well…"

He applied this philosophy to his practice for the day. Maybe he would ask Uncle what he thought about this approach (but chances were he would get a useless proverb in return).

"I wonder if this will help me capture the Avatar," he said to himself. The last airbender had been mastering the elements for a century, but maybe he would be caught off-guard by more ordinary weapons. Heartened by this thought, Zuko continued practicing.


	5. Sea Ice

"If this good weather holds, we should pass the South Pole by the first day of Fall," Lieutenant Jee informed Zuko one afternoon on the bridge. "And then we'll travel northward and pass the winter somewhere a little warmer. We've been hearing rumors of someone living at the Eastern Air Temple, but nothing's confirmed yet."

"How soon can we get there?"

"If we stoke all the engines, we could be there in seventeen days, sir," said the helmsman. "But if we do that, we may not have enough coal to get us back to a port to resupply."

"And if we go at normal speed?"

"If we continue at this pace, it should take close to a month. Sir."

Zuko rubbed his head, thinking. Unconsciously, he looked over at Iroh, who was playing pai sho with Sergeant Shogo and clearly winning. Hmm… If they didn't hurry, they might lose whoever was at the Eastern Air Temple. But if they ran out of coal, they would be stuck out in the middle of nowhere in the winter, which, for a boat full of Fire Nationals, would be torture. They would have to take the riverboat, which always had an emergency supply of coal, as far as they could, which probably still wouldn't be far enough. They would then have to walk the rest of the way to port and haul as much coal as they could back to the riverboat and hope it would be enough to get the ship into port. And it would be _cold_.

"How long have you been hearing these rumors?"

"Just once, sir, about three days ago," said Lieutenant Jee. Zuko nodded. They had been on Whale Tail Island at that time—a crossroads for gossip.

"We will continue at normal speed," Zuko decided, though his anticipation was like a hedgebeetle stuck in the back of his collar.

"Yes, sir."

There was a groan from the pai sho table as Sergeant Shogo lost the pot. Iroh grinned and flipped his lotus tile into the air.

* * *

"Allow me to tell you about something about leadership, my nephew." Iroh smiled and poured green tea for them both while they waited for dinner. Zuko, still annoyed at having to take it slow on the way to the Eastern Air Temple, perked up slightly. "The chiefs of the Water Tribes are very close to their people. In the southern tribe, each village's chief is chosen by his peers. They look to him to make decisions for the tribe, but there is no rank among them. They follow him without question or complaint because they know that he will never lead them astray. They are essentially family—therefore, no southern chief can even comprehend making a decision that would deliberately hurt anyone from his tribe."

Without thinking about it, Zuko turned his head away to hide his scar. Iroh calmly took a sip of tea and continued. "In the Northern Tribe, the chief is descended from a long line of chiefs, just as the Fire Lords are. But he is always among his people. He knows them well, and they know him. He is the protector of the tribe's spirituality and his people look to him as such. If he does not have the support of the spirits, then the people will not support him as their chief. Because of his highly spiritual nature, the northern chief can feel the energy and individual worth of each of his countrymen, and likewise would never do anything to hurt a single one of them."

"How is this relevant?"

"Pay close attention, Prince Zuko. If your mind is open, you will learn something. Ah. This looks delicious." The cook entered with dinner: spicy grilled pork, rice, kimchee, and dumplings with red bean filling. Once it was all laid out on the table, Iroh continued. "In the Earth Kingdom, many of the minor kings come from common backgrounds—they earn their kingship through their own merits, and their people respect them for it. The same goes for a large portion of the Earth Kingdom's generals. Those who used their pedigrees to buy their ranks are not respected by their men, for they have never experienced the daily hardships of common soldiers, and they do not understand what it is like to be in harm's way at all times. In turn, these generals have little respect for their men. And thus there is a divide between the leader and the followers," Iroh explained. He took a big bite of pork and smiled contentedly.

"In the Fire Nation," he continued, "Every leader has a bloodline. The Fire Lord, every general, every admiral, every governor, every one of them. They are far removed from their followers. More often than not, this can make them dismissive and unconcerned for others' safety. Fire Nation soldiers will follow their general's storied ancestors, or they will simply follow out of fear, for their leaders come from powerful backgrounds. All of them. General Shu, Admiral Chan, General Bujing…" Zuko looked sharply up from his rice at the mention of that name, but Iroh continued talking without changing his tone at all. "…and myself as well. These leaders are able to effectively distance themselves from suffering… until they witness it on a very personal level."

"The Fire Nation is the greatest civilization in history," Zuko said. Under the table, he gripped double fistfuls of his robe in order to remain calm. "They must be doing something right."

"Perhaps. But compare their approach to that of, for example, the Earth Kingdom. Those generals have endured hardship and suffering and therefore work to minimize it. And when tragedy does strike, as it often does, they are not incapacitated by the sudden revelation, as I was when I lost Lu Ten." His voice suddenly became bitter, and he paused for a moment before continuing. Zuko stared down at his tea. "It is a terrible shock. When it happens, one suddenly realizes that it all could have been avoided if they had just been a little more attentive, a little less careless. It is better to follow the examples of the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes from the beginning."

"All this sounds…" the prince struggled to find the right word. "Disloyal. It's disloyal, to suggest we need to do things the way _backwards_ nations do them."

"Oh?"

"Yes! You're always saying things that… I… why do you hate your nation?" Zuko set his cup on the table a little harder than necessary. Tea sloshed over the side and onto his hand.

"What makes you think I hate our nation?"

"You're always criticizing it!"

"Is it not my love for my nation that makes me criticize it?" Iroh suggested.

"If you really loved the Fire Nation, you _wouldn't_ criticize it," Zuko insisted.

"Blind obedience does not equal love, my nephew. To love something is to want what is best for it. Does it not cause parents grief when their children make poor choices? When you truly love something or someone, sometimes you will be disappointed in it."

"Well, what if it's perfect already?" Zuko said, mostly to be contrary. It bothered him when he knew Iroh was right about something he disagreed with.

"Nothing is," the old general said with a smile.

"What if it's as close to perfect as it possibly can be?"

"Then history repeats itself and it goes the way of the Air Nomads."

Zuko opened his mouth, closed it again, and sat in frustrated silence while Uncle enjoyed a dumpling and a fresh cup of tea.

* * *

As they approached the South Pole, the air turned cold.

There were some chilly nights in the Fire Nation, when a breeze blew in from the sea during the winter. If it got cool enough, sometimes the next summer's population of mosquito-ticks would be a bit smaller. Sure, the country was hot and humid most of the time, but the snowcapped volcanoes in the heart of the Fire Nation proved that it wasn't always the case. It could get cold.

But not like this. Never like this.

The sun shone brightly overhead, but there was no warmth in it. The winds that battered the ship were bone-dry, sapping the moisture from exposed skin. The metal of the ship was so cold that it burned to the touch.

Zuko's cabin, along with the rest of the rooms where people lived, remained tolerably warm… or at least the air inside did. The metal walls leaked heat like a sieve leaks water. Zuko learned not to sleep right next to the wall—the first night of extreme cold, he awoke in the morning to find that his blanket and his robe had frozen to the wall in the night and accidentally singed both while trying to separate them from the steel.

His cheeks were rough and red from the constant wind every time he went outside. His hands cracked and his lips became raw and bloody. His eyes watered, but the tears froze to his eyelashes almost instantly. His scar ached in the cold—strange, how much cold could feel like fire.

"Prince Zuko, you should let your hair grow," Iroh advised one day over hot cinnamon tea. "It will keep your head warm."

"No," Zuko replied, and that was the end of it.

Their meals became spicier and spicier until it was impossible to manage more than a few bites before shoveling rice into one's mouth to stop the burning. Zuko suspected that if it was that hot to Fire Nationals, it probably would have killed anyone from the Earth Kingdom. The smell of green curry wafted throughout the ship almost constantly, even making its way down into the hold where Zuko continued to practice with his swords. It was bitter cold below deck. Ice crystals crunched under his feet whenever he stepped and more often than not, he ended up on his backside after executing a particularly aggressive attack. Iroh's constant admonitions about balance started to ring in his ears whenever he fell down.

Uncle came into Zuko's room one morning while the prince was rubbing some of his scar salve into his cracked, bleeding knuckles.

"Is there any news of the Avatar?" he asked automatically, as his did every day.

"No. But there is something else outside that I think will interest you," Iroh said with a calm smile. He beckoned to Zuko and tucked his hands into his sleeves.

Zuko stepped outside into a world of swirling white. The snow was falling so thick that he couldn't even see the pointed prow of the ship from where he stood, let alone the sea. It piled up in little heaps on the edges of the deck and individual flakes settled like tiny diamonds on his clothes and eyelashes. They fell into his open hands and melted upon contact with his skin, tiny and fleeting in their existence. He had never imagined it would be like this. He had never imagined that snow would be so—

"Have you never seen snow before, sir?" asked Lieutenant Jee from a few feet away, one eyebrow raised. Zuko suddenly became aware that his mouth was hanging open, and closed it.

"Not up close," he said.

"I've seen too much of it." The older man muttered something under his breath about bead-haired barbarians and their damn underwater explosives. "The blizzard is expected to pick up speed during the day, so we should make port and wait for it to die down before continuing. Otherwise we could get lost and end up in Water Tribe territory."

"Is there a port nearby?" Zuko asked, still watching the falling snow. The air above his extended palm shimmered with heat. The snowflakes that fell on it were evaporated immediately.

"There is a dock about an hour north of here, but there aren't any services."

"That will do. Tell the helmsman to set a course."

"Yes sir." He went back inside. Zuko stayed out on the deck under the falling snow, shaping it with his hands, firebending it, and just letting the little specks of cold fall on his bald head. He didn't go back inside until long after they had arrived at port.

* * *

The wind howled all night. Zuko lay awake, staring up at his cabin's low ceiling and shivering despite the polar leopard pelt he'd bought on Whale Tail Island in anticipation of the South Pole's chill.

How could he sleep, when the Avatar could be at the Eastern Air Temple? First they had to go slow like a snail-sloth, and now they had to stop because of some stupid wind and snow. At this rate, they would _never_ get there. The Avatar could be long gone by the time they even got moving again. To think, he could spend the winter in the Fire Nation where it was warm—but no, they would spend the whole winter in the ice because they couldn't move this stupid ship fast enough.

He angrily rolled onto his side and pulled his blanket and the fur closer around his near-frozen body. He lay there, fuming, until he drifted off sometime in the night.

For the first time since his banishment, he dreamed.

Not the vaguely-remembered snatches of fear and burning pain that sometimes pounced on him in the night and prevented him from getting any more sleep after he woke in a cold sweat. This time, he actually _dreamed_.

He dreamed of warmth and of a bed that didn't crackle with a film of ice every morning. He dreamed of a pond in the garden and a family of turtle-ducks who ate bread out of his hands when he was little. He dreamed of fire-lilies, staring out the window at the city streets while bored in a lesson, and peering out from behind a curtain in the throne room to watch his father hold audiences with his advisors. He dreamed of Mai, running through a secret passageway in the palace with her and the thrill he had gotten when they first held hands, a mere week before that fateful war meeting. Just glimpses, tiny bits of memory all put together into one.

Then it was back—the memory of burning, of terror, of shame—

He awoke suddenly and put a hand to his face to extinguish the fire, but it wasn't there. He let out his breath, slow and shaky, fingers still touching the uneven ridges of his scar. The wind still shook his metal walls and he breathed out a wisp of mist every time he exhaled. The blizzard was not going anywhere any time soon, but Zuko wasn't going back to sleep.

He sighed, wrapped his fur around himself, and went to his altar to meditate until the sun came up.

The winds died down a couple of hours later. When dawn came, bright and cheerful, Zuko got dressed with intents to go to the bridge. But just as he was tying his boots (they had been unusually tight lately, he noticed), a grating, scraping crunch shook the ship.

He immediately ran to the bridge to see what had happened.

"I'm not sure, sir," Lieutenant Jee said when asked about it. "It seems we have a problem…"

"I can tell we have a problem! I just want to know what it is!" He stomped outside to the deck, which was covered in a good foot of snow. He waded through it, cursing under his breath, and went to the starboard side. One of the firebenders and an engineer were off the ship and walking around next to it. Zuko thought they were on the dock until he realized that yesterday, the dock had been several feet lower than that.

"What happened?" he called down to the two men. His dread grew with each passing minute.

"We're frozen in the ice, sir," said the firebender. Zuko couldn't identify him for the hooded cloak he wore.

"The ship can't break through it," the engineer added. "It's at least a few feet thick—it might even be frozen solid."

Zuko swore loudly, went back inside, yelled at a few people, and eventually gathered a group to go out and inspect the ice. The snow on top of it was deep and fluffy, but beneath it, the ice was shiny and hard all the way around the ship. The day was even colder than the previous days had been—Zuko could feel his ponytail freezing into an icicle even as they stood. Even a few hundred yards out to sea, the ice remained strong enough for several armored men to walk on.

"It is a cold snap," Iroh explained. "Hopefully the weather will warm up temporarily before winter sets in and we can break through the ice. Otherwise…"

"Otherwise _what_ , Uncle!"

"We will be stuck here until Spring."

All of the men stared at him, incredulous.

"We can't—that can't—" Zuko gritted his teeth. "Can we firebend our way out of here?"

"It is unlikely. The ice is thick all the way around. It will refreeze before we would be able to free ourselves." The old general took a deep breath. "We must wait it out. We have no other choice." He addressed everyone now. "It will be cold and frustrating, but it will be possible. There is no need to worry about our supplies—we have plenty of food and enough coal to keep the ship warm for a very long time. I will send a messenger hawk to the nearest communication tower to see if they have an icebreaker they can spare. Until then, we wait. And now I must go inside and have my tea." He started making his way back to the ship, followed by the others.

Zuko let out a few furious but futile fire blasts at the ice, kicked the hull of the ship several times, and swore as filthily as he could before trudging back inside.

He would never find the Avatar.


	6. The Long Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elements inspired by Avocado Love's epic and awesome fic "Another Brother" are within—I liked her idea that firebenders will be affected by the lack of sunlight. I didn't take it quite as far as she did, however, because then we'd have a boat full of dead firebenders and the story would be over.
> 
> I also realized while writing this that it wouldn't be winter at the South Pole at the same time as the rest of the world. Then I decided that if, in the Avatar world, you can see a solar eclipse in Omashu and the Fire Nation at the same time, it's best to just go with it and focus on the story. :D

Zuko didn't remember much about the actual moment of his banishment. Whether it was because of the pain and shock following the Agni Kai or simply his mind trying to force the memory out of his head, he didn't know.

He also didn't know why he was trying to call the memory back. It was a horrible memory. He didn't want it. But after some reflection, he decided that he should always have it with him, to remind him of why he was out here on a rustbucket of a battleship, frozen in ice for four days, six hours, and twenty-seven minutes and counting.

He lay on his futon, rolled in his beloved polar leopard fur with his hands clasped behind his head and his brow furrowed as he tried to remember. He listened to his breath and watched the plumes of mist that he breathed out. If he breathed in too quickly or too deeply, the inside of his nose would freeze. He and everyone else on the ship had already had several nosebleeds each.

He remembered mostly details. Useless details, like the number of times the razor had slipped when his head was shaved, or the way the royal physician's hands shook as he hastily treated Zuko's burn. He remembered the feel of silk sliding off his shoulders as he turned to face his opponent in the arena and the sound of marching boots in the hallway as the guards approached his room to escort him out of the palace.

The first thing he concretely remembered was being half-carried out of the arena long after all of the spectators had gone. The Agni Kai had officially ended when he passed out. He didn't remember the trip out of the arena and back into the palace, as he had drifted in and out of consciousness all the way up to his room. He didn't know who was supporting him—It wasn't Uncle, and it definitely wasn't his father. Maybe a guard or a servant. He felt very little pain, just a faint recollection of screaming as he was burned.

The next thing he remembered was being marched down to the site of his original indiscretion—the throne room. Sometime before, his wound had been treated and he had been dressed. He wasn't really walking; the guards on either side of him had to drag him, insensible, through the halls, past the curtain with the flame insignia on it, and finally into the Fire Lord's presence. He fell to his hands and knees once again, not out of propriety, but because he couldn't stand. He didn't remember the Fire Lord's words. The verdict had been written down, and that was how, much later, he learned of the terms of his banishment.

Servants then moved forward to shave his head right there, in front of the whole court, as a symbol of his disgrace and humiliation. The clearest thing he remembered was watching the long black strands fall to the marble floor in a little heap. His ponytail remained in place once they were done. He was then escorted back to his room and given a few hours to prepare for his departure. By this time, he was a little more lucid—he could mostly walk on his own and the pain was returning to his face. But he still felt empty and detached, not quite in the present. It was as if he was watching himself from a distance as he struggled to put his armor on and to pack a few things into a bag.

Azula came to taunt him as soon as she could get away with it. She laughed at her own joke of him spending the rest of his life as a one-eyed beggar. She wouldn't stop, no matter how much Zuko tried to get her to leave him alone for once in her life, first shouting, and then pleading. She pranced away as soon as Uncle's footsteps were heard coming down the hall, moving much faster than the sounds of the guards in the distance.

That was it. Mere glimpses—all he remembered of the day he had ruined his life.

Something told him that he should be angry at his father. Part of him was, but Zuko banished those traitorous thoughts as soon as they showed up, unwelcome, in his mind. _It's not my father's fault_ , he told himself. _It's mine. It's all my fault, and no one else's._ It wasn't Uncle's fault, or Mom's, or General Bujing's. It wasn't Azula's fault, but sometimes Zuko wished it was, just so that he could blame her for something. But no. She was too perfect.

He conjured a palm-sized flame and tossed it back and forth between his hands. It was so beautiful and warm, a little speck of life in this frozen wasteland of despair. In his various stops along the occupied coast, he'd heard a few stories about people, mostly kids, who'd been seriously burned and subsequently developed an intense fear of fire. Zuko thought that was stupid. It wasn't the fire's fault, either.

He stared into the heart of his little flame, watching it wax and wane with his breath. He didn't know how long he had been watching and breathing when suddenly he heard the jumbled sounds of what could only be a mass of poorly-played string instruments. It was coming from somewhere above his head.

He discarded his polar leopard fur and made his way up to the bridge, shivering. Uncle and a handful of other crew members sat in a circle, some with instruments, some without. The pai sho table had been moved to one side of the room, a small brazier in its place. The bridge was far warmer than Zuko's room.

"What is going on here?" he demanded.

"Music night, Prince Zuko," Iroh said. "I figured it would raise morale while we wait for the ice to melt."

" _Music night_!"

"You should join us, my nephew. It is too bad we don't have a tsungi horn…"

"I do _not_ play the tsungi horn," Zuko insisted with the degree of vehemence that he only had when he was lying. He was actually a pretty good tsungi hornist, but he didn't care much for the instrument and hadn't practiced in years. It was mostly something that his mother had encouraged. But in the past few years, it was improving his mediocre firebending that had become a more serious priority.

"If you say so," Iroh said, sharing a conspiratorial look with the others. Lieutenant Jee, who wielded a rather battered pipa, hid a smile as Zuko's frown deepened. Zuko crossed his arms, strode to the far wall, and sat down on the floor. Iroh smiled. "So you will stay anyway? I am glad."

"It's warm in here," Zuko spat.

He didn't care about music night. He just wanted to be in a room where his eyeballs didn't freeze over afresh every time he blinked.

* * *

He wasn't sure how much time passed. It could have been days or weeks, but it was probably just hours that they were stuck in the ice, for all Zuko knew. The minutes dragged like a slug-beetle dipped in tar (Azula had actually done that one time). He practiced his firebending outside in the stinging cold, even though no one would spar with him. He practiced his swords in the icy cargo hold, where their supplies of barreled fish had frozen completely solid. When it became too cold even for him, he did what exercises he could in his own room. He meditated for long hours and studied for longer hours. He was running out of scrolls, even considering Iroh's extensive collection.

He was bone-tired. He had never been this tired before, not even after the most intense firebending lessons. He practically fell into bed every night, asleep before he could even lie down, and woke up a disgraceful time after dawn, sore and cranky and _starving_.

When the ship had been frozen for a full month, people started to worry. It was looking more and more likely that they would be stuck all winter. The Fire Nation had dismissively said that they couldn't spare an icebreaker for only one small ship, and therefore no such help was coming. Liquor started to flow even more freely among the crew than it usually did. At least a handful of them sincerely thought that they would die out here in the middle of nowhere.

Zuko's fatigue often got the better of him. He planned to study or meditate before bed, but he found himself nodding off at his altar or resting his head on the table, just for a few moments, but before he realized it, he'd slept for a full hour. More than once, he woke up to find his polar leopard pelt tucked around him and the aroma of tea lingering in the air.

"The days are getting shorter. We draw our power from the sun and when winter comes, our bodies are affected by the lack of sunlight," Iroh explained simply when Zuko suppressed his pride for long enough to ask why he was feeling this way. He thought he might be getting sick. "That, and you are growing."

"Huh?" Zuko then realized that he was looking down at the top of his uncle's head. On the day of his banishment, they had been the same height. The reality of his sudden sprouting fell on him like a barrel of bricks—he extended one arm and saw that the sleeve of his robe fell a few inches short of his wrist, and the hem now came up almost to his knees. His boots pinched his toes anew as if encouraged by Zuko's discovery. "How did I not notice this?" he said aloud, although he could have sworn he merely thought it.

"Young men are like bamboo. They are small and green one day, but by the next, they have grown a foot."

"I don't want your proverbs, Uncle!" Despite his tone, he was pleased. Maybe his men would respect him more now that he was no longer a full head shorter than most of them.

"That wasn't a proverb, it was an observation. But I don't know, maybe it should be a proverb." Iroh smiled and put a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "You look cold, my tall nephew. Come. Let's have a cup of tea, and I will show you a firebending technique that you will find very useful during the winter."

"Which one?"

"The one that earned me the nickname, 'the Dragon of the West.'"

"You can teach me the breath of fire?"

"Of course." Smiling gently, he led the prince in the direction of his cabin. "It heats tea, it keeps you warm, and you might even use it in battle."

Iroh's cabin was brightly lit, but as cold as the rest of the ship. The old general hefted a bucket of solid ice that had been sitting next to the door and handed it to Zuko before going to the small lacquered chest that held his tea collection. "To perform the breath of fire," he said while going through packets of different tea leaves, "You must focus on your breathing. Power in _all_ firebending comes from the breath, as you know, but without total concentration on your breath, the technique is impossible. You must be controlled. Control is the difference between a flame to warm you on a cold night and an inferno to burn down a house. Patience. Calm. That is what you will need for your first exercise." Iroh pointed to the bucket. "Melt that ice for me, please."

"What?"

"I can't make tea out of ice. Use the breath of fire to turn it to water. Without total control, the ice will simply shatter."

Zuko held the bucket in both hands, ignoring the searing cold on his palms, and focused on the frozen core of the ice. He took a breath in, concentrating on his own inner flame, and breathed slowly out.

A wide plume of flame came out of his mouth, far bigger than anything he had visualized. Startled, he almost dropped the bucket.

"Control," Iroh said again. "You are not fighting, you are melting ice. The breath you take is the size of the fire you will be making. If you take the same breath that you use for a fire blast to melt my tea water, you will not succeed. Imagine you are stuck out in the cold. If you use such a large breath of fire to warm your body, you will quickly become exhausted and freeze to death."

Zuko understood _that_ scenario perfectly, given their current situation. He took a short breath, a little shallower than the first, and breathed out over the bucket. His flame was unruly, uneven, and rather feeble, not like Uncle's frequent and skilled fire breaths. Still, it licked across the ice and created a thin film of water on its surface.

"Good, good. Keep going. Don't stop until I have enough for my tea. And do not make the flame too hot—if you do, the water will evaporate and you'll have to practice for even longer to get the right amount."

Zuko was pleasantly warm but quite tired by the time Iroh pronounced the water adequate for his tea. "Now," said Uncle, handing Zuko the teapot. "Heat up the water."

Zuko groaned.

* * *

Winter's icy fist gripped the lonely ship ever tighter as the days grew shorter and shorter. The air outside became even colder, something Zuko thought impossible. He didn't venture outside at all these days, and only went into the cargo hold when he absolutely had to. It didn't take him long to hone his breath of fire into the perfect personal heater. When it was too cold to sleep, he spent long hours lying under his polar leopard fur, breathing small, friendly flames into his cupped hands, finally falling asleep when he was too tired to even do that.

As the winter solstice drew nearer and nearer, the sun all but disappeared from the sky. The firebenders spent most of this time in a half-asleep haze, their element withdrawn from them, just waiting for the sun to return and make them strong again.

Zuko didn't know if he was remembering or dreaming as he lay on his bed, neither awake nor asleep, but the images of home in his mind were more vivid than the cold ever was.

He was eight years old. It was summer in the Fire Nation capital—there had been a small party in the garden the night before to celebrate the yearly blooming of the fire lilies, and their red-gold petals shone from the flower beds along the edges of the walls. It was a hot day, bright and humid and full of life. Azula and Ty Lee—too young to be getting up to the epic-scale mischief for which they would become infamous in the following years—played with their dolls on the northern veranda while their nursemaids kept watch. Zuko and Mai, however, had given their guardians the slip and were now on the other side of the palace, near the rock gardens and the koi pond. The whole area was sheltered by willow trees. No one would be able to easily find them there.

"I'm getting better at it," Mai said. She drew a small knife out of her sash—probably filched from the kitchen. "I can hit it at ten paces now. Watch." She took a few steps back, aimed the knife at the willow tree in front of her. She took a breath and hurled the knife in a motion so beautiful and fluid that Zuko was jealous. It thudded neatly into the bark about an inch deep.

"How do you _do_ that?"

"Practice."

"Yeah… but…"

"How do you do your firebending?" she asked in response. "It's just natural, right?"

"For Azula," Zuko muttered. Then he shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

"Same for me." Mai walked over to the tree and pulled the knife out. "I can't wait until I'm older. Then maybe I can get my own shuriken."

"That would be so cool! And when I get better at firebending we can team up against… uh…"

"Ninjas," Mai offered.

"Yeah! Ninjas! And earthbenders, and stuff."

The two children froze at the sound of displeased footsteps rapidly approaching their hiding place. Mai's mother strode into the garden, frowning, with her hands in her sleeves. Zuko's mother didn't look quite as upset, but she did give Zuko a Look upon seeing the mud splotch on the back of his pants from when he had been sitting on the grass.

"Mai! What have I told you about playing with knives! Is that a proper pursuit for a young lady?" At her mother's scolding words, Mai's face became sullen and she wordlessly shook her head. "And where is your governess?"

"I don't know," she replied.

"Come along, now. I suppose we'll just have to monitor your playtime with Prince Zuko more closely from now on." Mai was led away by her elbow, but she managed to lock eyes with Zuko one last time before they rounded a corner and disappeared.

Ursa didn't say anything right away. Zuko looked at the ground and offered a stuttered half-apology, half-explanation, but it soon became clear that his mother wasn't angry. She knelt down in front of him, placing her hands on his shoulders and looking very intently at his face.

"Listen to me," she said. "We are going in for an audience with Firelord Azulon this afternoon. This will be the most important thing you have ever done, so I want you to be on your best behavior, all right?" She smiled, and Zuko managed a nervous grin in return. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up before it's time to go." They started off in the direction of the palace. Zuko ran through all the possible things this meeting could be for, but couldn't decide on any one option.

"Where's Azula? Is she coming, too?"

"No. This is just for you, me, and your father."

That just confused Zuko more.

Back in his room, a servant brought out Zuko's court outfit and Ursa helped him dress. Zuko grimaced—the high collar with its itchy gold embroidery was one reason he hated all these audiences with the Firelord.

"What is this for, anyway?"

"You'll find out. Nothing's certain yet until the Firelord makes the final decision… but I think it'll be fine." Her words were slightly distant, as if she was remembering something while she spoke. Her hands moved quickly as she fastened the little gold buttons down the front of Zuko's robe and retied his ponytail.

Zuko's mind bubbled with more questions than answers. He hadn't come to any conclusions by the time he knelt between his parents before the Firelord's throne and the curtain of flames that obscured him from view. As discreetly as he could, he peered behind his mother's back at the other family in the hall. Why was Mai here?

He looked questioningly up at his mother, and then at his father.

Dimly, still hovering in the realm between sleep and wakefulness, Zuko on his ship wondered why, in every dream and memory, his father's face seemed to be shrouded in darkness.

"It is a prudent match," came Grandfather's voice from behind the fire. "I give my consent to this alliance. Prince Zuko and Mai will be wed when the young lady turns sixteen."

Zuko's jaw dropped. _Wed_? As in _married_? That couldn't happen! He couldn't marry his best friend! That was… just… wrong somehow! He sneaked a look over at Mai. She looked down at the ground, a carefully blank expression on her face. Her hands held double fistfuls of her dress.

He didn't remember much else of the audience. Afterwards, he nodded dumbly when his mother asked if he was all right. His father had disappeared into the palace almost as soon as the audience was over, but Zuko, for once, wasn't looking for him. The young prince had something else on his mind right now.

He knew exactly where to find Mai. Their favorite hiding place, a secret staircase that led to the observatory in the North Tower. His great-great grandfather had been an astronomy enthusiast, and had the staircase built so that no one would bother him while he watched the night sky. The observatory was locked these days, but the staircase was open to whoever could find it.

She sat halfway up the stairs, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Zuko was shocked to see tear tracks on her cheeks—Mai didn't cry. She had always been so calm and quiet, even around him. The emotions she showed were anger, when Azula and Ty Lee's teasing went too far, and happiness, whenever she and Zuko were playing alone together. She didn't cry. Zuko didn't remember ever seeing her cry.

"I don't want to marry you," she said hotly as soon as Zuko came up the stairs and sat down next to her.

"Why not?" he demanded, annoyed, even though he had been thinking something along those same lines, for reasons he couldn't quite understand.

"Because you can't be married and friends at the same time!"

"Who says?"

"Are _your_ parents friends?"

"No… I guess not." Now that Zuko thought about it, he realized that his parents rarely even spoke to each other. Family dinner was silent but for the sounds of quiet chewing. When anyone spoke, it was his father, and it was usually to ask Azula about her firebending lessons. Mom didn't talk when Dad was around, at least, not the way she talked when she was just with Zuko and Azula. The thought of his parents being friends was… almost absurd in its strangeness. They didn't practice their firebending together, the way Zuko and Mai showed each other their firebending and knife throwing. They obviously couldn't talk about anything and everything the way Zuko and Mai did. And he was certain that they didn't find secret passageways through the palace together.

"You can't be both," Mai repeated. "My parents aren't friends, either." She looked down, her mouth set in an unhappy line.

"Well, then we'll start a new tradition," Zuko said stubbornly. "From now on, you can be married _and_ be friends. There. It's settled." At that, Mai hid a giggle behind her hand.

Between them, they never brought up the slowly-approaching day when they would be married. It wasn't an issue. Even when, seeing them play together as they always had, the ladies of the court remarked at how lucky they were and how happy their marriage would be, Zuko and Mai ignored them. They were friends, and always would be, no matter what happened. It wasn't until they were ten years old that Zuko brought it up again.

"You know," he said, feeling brave. "Even if we weren't betrothed—" he made a face. He hated that word. "—I think I'd want to marry you anyway."

Mai turned her head and blushed, her pale amber eyes crinkling up at the corners. Her smiles were few and far between, but that made them all the more beautiful.

"I guess she's gonna marry someone else now," Zuko mumbled to his dark cabin. He curled his half-frozen feet up closer to his body and eventually shivered himself to sleep.


	7. Rumors and Doubts

The world turned and the sun returned to the South Pole. The ship, however, remained frozen, as did its inhabitants.

Zuko, as usual, was huddled inside his polar leopard fur and breathing fire into his hands when he and Iroh looked over the prince's ledger. The anniversary of Zuko's banishment was rapidly approaching, and the gold he had been allowed for that year was running out. Even with the months they had spent stuck in the ice, burning only the minimum amount of coal required to keep them alive, they would be hard-pressed to pay all the crew, make necessary repairs, and buy supplies with what they had left.

Zuko frowned and bit down on the end of his brush. No matter how many corners he cut, no matter how cheaply they bought food and coal, they were still short. Finally, he threw his brush down on the table in frustration, splattering drops of ink across the page and onto Uncle's forehead.

He didn't know anything about money until he was banished. He never really even had to touch the stuff—if he wanted something, he got it. As a kid, he had a little pocket money, which often got lost because he used it so infrequently, mostly just for ice cream on Ember Island (which he now realized was horrendously overpriced). He didn't know what a budget was, he had no idea how much a ton of coal cost, and his food could have come from the Spirit World for all he knew. The average Earth Kingdom peasant brat could haggle him under the table—those kids had been stretching every copper coin since they were born, whereas Zuko had to start immediately just a year ago.

"I don't understand this stuff," he snapped. "I'm a prince. I never had any reason to know this."

"Why not? Shouldn't a leader know how his nation's money is being spent?" Iroh dabbed the ink off his forehead with a handkerchief and took a sip of tea.

"That's what treasurers are for!"

"Ah. What happens when those treasurers realize that you aren't paying attention to your own money, and decide to divert a little for themselves?"

"Then they face justice!"

"How will they face justice, if you don't know enough about budgeting to be able to tell that they're fleecing you?" He smiled.

Zuko opened his mouth and raised his pointer finger, ready to retort, but whatever half-formed rebuttal he had envisioned died before he could say it. He let his finger drop and picked his brush back up. "I don't know what to do," he said bitterly. "I don't have enough money." He gave a hollow, humorless chuckle. "To think, I'm a prince and I can't even make ends meet."

"It will be easier next year, I think. The upgrades to the ship's engines were expensive, but they will hold out for a few years, at least. And they have made us more efficient, burning less coal than before but covering the same distance."

"Even so, we're spending a good quarter of the year stuck in ice. We _can't_ spend money out here, and we still don't have enough," Zuko said, pointing at the ledger. "I'm not going to get us stuck like this next year. We won't be able to make it then, either."

"Then you must decide what is absolutely essential and what can be cut." There was a long silence in which Iroh breathed fire over his tea to heat it up again and Zuko pored over the ledger, thinking and absently rubbing his left eye. It always itched. The burn seemed to have dried up most of his tears in that eye, making it feel like sand behind his eyelid every time he blinked. It was still pretty useless for reading, too. He saw fuzzy shapes and colors, but not much else.

"We can't afford a crew this size," he said at last. "Some of them will have to go."

"But those who will not be continuing with us will still need to be paid one last time," Iroh reminded him. "I will make up whatever difference there is."

"I don't want your charity, Uncle."

"It's not charity. It is necessity. What other choice do you have?"

After a moment of inner struggle, Zuko nodded. "Fine. Just this once. Who can we do without in the future?"

"That is one question, but you must also ask yourself who can do without _us_. Most of your men are also banished. They have no place to go, and the money you pay them is all that they have. They have little or nothing to lose. Would you turn them loose on some defenseless village?"

"I don't care what they do."

"Do you care what happens to the innocents that live on the coast?" Iroh smiled slightly as he watched the cogs turn behind Zuko's forehead. That was one area in which he knew the prince would always do the right thing.

"Fine. Who can we afford to fire that _isn't_ banished?"

They looked over the numbers together. They needed all the engineers and mechanics they had to keep the old ship working. They needed the cook; by this time Iroh had decided that he would accept no replacement. Zuko decided that they needed all of their soldiers and firebenders, and Iroh agreed with him, not because they would need several people with which to catch the Avatar, but because a decent compliment of guards would keep them defended from people like Captain Zhao who would like to take advantage of Zuko's vulnerability. Lieutenant Jee, complainer though he was, kept things on the ship running smoothly and had no desire to go back to the regular navy, where he was still grounded for an indefinite amount of time.

That left only one person: the doctor. Iroh and Zuko both were wary of firing the doctor, just in case something happened. But the facts remained that his services had not been needed since Zuko's bandages came off a few months earlier, and he drew the largest salary of any one crew member. There was sure to be a doctor at any occupied port if his services were needed.

"We have been lucky to have not needed a doctor for such a long time," Iroh remarked.

"I don't believe in luck," said Zuko. He turned back to the ledger and got to work cutting any expense he could.

* * *

The weather warmed up slightly as time passed. Soon it became bearable to go outside onto the ice-coated deck.

"Do you hear that, Prince Zuko?" Iroh said with his usual contented smile.

"What, Uncle?" Zuko strained his ears against the whistling wind, gently rumbling engine, and rushing… water?

Water! The ice, at long last, had finally started to melt!

"It's melting!" Zuko blurted as soon as he figured it out. "The ice is melting! We're going to get out of here!" He quickly slid down a ladder on the side of the ship to the ice that held the ship in place. He bent a column of flame at the snow, revealing the ice beneath… sure enough, he could see water plants waving around far beneath them. He thought he even saw a fish. "Uncle!"

Iroh's gray head appeared over the edge of the ship. "What is it?"

"The water is moving! It's not frozen solid anymore!" Zuko climbed back up the ladder as fast as he could, slid across the icy deck, and ran all the way up to the bridge. He had lost too much time. He needed to make all the necessary preparations—they had to get resupplied and be on their way to the Eastern Air Temple as quickly as possible.

That revelation improved morale tenfold among the crew. Over the next few days, great booms sounded across the ice as it cracked and crashed together again, sending huge chunks floating out to sea.

And one day, the ship floated out to sea as well, mobile for the first time in five months.

* * *

It took about a week to get to the nearest colonial port. Snow still blanketed the land—just because the ice had melted, it didn't mean the weather was _warm_. Zuko found a (not completely awkward) way to tell the doctor that they would no longer be needing his services and paid everyone with what little money he had left, supplemented by Iroh's gold. Almost every last copper piece was gone by the time they had purchased coal, food, and other supplies. Zuko needed new boots; by this time, his feet only fit into the ones he had after several minutes of pushing, pulling, and profanity, so he managed to buy an inexpensive pair from the army outpost's supplies. His clothes were also too small, but they would have to do until a ship arrived from the capital with the next year's money.

He was tired, annoyed, and still freezing-cold by the time all that was done. They had to leave as soon as possible. The Eastern Air Temple could wait no longer.

Iroh pressed a coin into Zuko's hand while the two of them watched workers carry supplies up the gangplank and into the ship's dark belly. The prince frowned down at the silver portrait of his father in his palm.

"I said I don't want your charity."

"Then call it a gift. As your firebending master, I instruct you to take that down to the bathhouse and have a nice long soak. You will find it _most_ relaxing." A relaxing soak at the bathhouse had been Iroh's first order of business upon their arrival that morning.

"We have to get going, Uncle."

"It will still be a few hours before everything is ready. Go, I'll keep an eye on everything here." He gave Zuko a gentle push in the direction of the town. Zuko sighed and gave in. Maybe it would be nice, after months in the cold with only his polar leopard fur and his breath of fire to keep him warm. And maybe he could hear a rumor about the Avatar while he was at it.

As it turned out, "nice" wasn't _quite_ the word for the sensation of sinking up to his chin in a steaming-hot bath and finally being able to forget about the bone-numbing chill of his ship.

 _I am never getting out,_ he thought. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the side of the wooden tub. _Never. I am staying in this tub and nothing will be able to change my mind_. The Avatar? Maybe. But for right now, he was _warm_. And that was all that mattered.

There were three men in the cubicle next to his, clearly soldiers from the way they were talking about patrols in the area and complaining about having to spend a month out at the guard post on the peninsula.

"What's with that old warship in the harbor?" one of them asked the other two. "I thought that model hasn't been used in, what, like thirty years or something? Didn't they all get scrapped and turned into new ships?"

"That's Prince Zuko's ship," said one of the others, a man with a deeper voice.

"That scar-faced kid with the attitude problem?" Unconsciously, Zuko gripped the edges of his tub. The wood started to smoke and blacken where his hands touched it. "I think I heard about him. Didn't he get in trouble with the Fire Lord or something?"

"Yeah."

"For what?"

"I don't know. I heard he can't go back to the Fire Nation until he catches the Avatar, though."

"Like that'll happen."

"Come on…" the deeper voice sounded disapproving, as though he, unlike everyone else who knew about Zuko's quest, actually believed it could happen.

"Dude, that's totally a fool's errand. Find someone who hasn't been seen for a hundred years, and _then_ you can come home? Right." The other two made vague noises of agreement. There was a brief pause in which Zuko finally realized that he was burning the tub and hastily removed his hands. "Kind of makes you feel sorry for the guy, though," the soldier added as an afterthought.

Every muscle in Zuko's body tensed. He could take these people's scorn, but pity was something he would _not_ tolerate. He wanted to jump up and leave right now, before he got himself into trouble he couldn't get out of, but his clothes were still being laundered. Just minutes before, he had thought that he would never leave his tub, but now he couldn't wait to get out. He forced himself to calm down, but still couldn't tear his ears away from their conversation.

"He had to have done _something_ pretty bad," said the deep voice. "The Fire Lord wouldn't banish someone, especially not his own son, for no good reason."

 _Well, they got that right. It's my own fault it happened_.

"I don't know," said a third voice, lowered slightly, in case he should be overheard. Zuko held his breath and listened carefully. "There are… rumors on that ship. I used to serve with Lieutenant Jee back when he was still a Captain, now he's commanding Prince Zuko's ship. I ran into him today, caught up on things, you know. No one's quite sure _why_ he was banished, and no one can get a straight answer out of General Iroh, even. Jee says the prince seems like he's been through more than he lets on, so maybe it's something else…" he trailed off. There was embarrassment in his voice—he probably knew that his words were tiptoeing closer and closer to outright disloyalty.

"There was a press release about a year ago," said the first soldier. "He disrespected a general, or something."

"You took that seriously? It's from the capital. It's propaganda at best."

"What's wrong with you? It's a press release, not an opinion column. Of course it's true."

Zuko couldn't listen anymore. He sank deeper into the water until only his nose and mouth were above it, listening to his heartbeat pounding in his ears. As soon as his clothes were done and an attendant brought them back from the laundry, Zuko quickly got dressed and headed back to the ship as fast as he could without looking suspicious.

"Is everything loaded, Uncle?" he asked.

"Almost, Prince Zuko. We're just now getting the last of the food delivered." Iroh indicated the workers who carried heavy baskets into the hold. "How was the bathhouse? Relaxing?"

"Uh… sure. I guess."

* * *

The first anniversary of Zuko's banishment arrived while they were still en route to the Eastern Air Temple. As if it wasn't already enough of a reminder of what had happened on that day, his scar ached constantly as he sat in his room and meditated, studied, or otherwise tried to keep his mind off it. Iroh's well-meaning attempts to cheer him up served only to annoy him, and eventually the old general gave up.

About a week afterwards, a ship arrived from the capital with Zuko's money for the next year. As sealed and stamped chests full of gold were loaded into the small hold where the last year's money used to be, Zuko talked to the other ship's captain.

"Is there anything else?" He couldn't quite keep the eagerness out of his voice. "Like… a letter? Did my father send any word at all?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. Just the gold."

"Oh. Well, I guess he's busy."

A nasty little voice inside of him asked why he would even think that the Fire Lord would send him a letter. _If he really wanted to talk to you_ , it said, _would he have banished you in the first place?_


	8. The Drunken Adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iroh continuing to train Zuko with a blindfold was influenced in part by Vathara's awesome and interesting oneshot "Scarlet and Black." Definitely give it a read.

Later, the tale of how Zuko ended up drunker than Fire Lord Azulon, dressed as an Earth Kingdom peasant, and sailing in the riverboat in the middle of the night would become hilarious even to him, despite how much fun it _wasn't_ at the time.

It started, as these things do, with a routine sparring match on the deck.

* * *

Iroh held up a wide strip of fabric. "Do it blindfolded, Prince Zuko. You rely too much on your sight. Feel the flames. Feel the heat of the sun and the chill of the ocean. Sense the heat of the engines beneath you and the position of your opponent's inner fire."

"I'm not going to be fighting blindfolded," Zuko spat. "What's the point?"

"Once you perfect it with the blindfold, you will be able to do it properly without. You are improving," he reassured his nephew. "Both your swords and the blindfold have gotten you to be stronger on your left side."

"If I'm improving, I shouldn't have to wear the stupid thing!"

"Not yet, Prince Zuko. You still have much practicing to do. Put it on."

Zuko glared at Iroh, but took the cloth and tied it around his head. Corporal Chen, always patient, took a fighting stance across the deck from him. The prince attacked first, drilling the form of the day with more accuracy than ever. Iroh smiled as he watched Zuko's steady footsteps and assertive strikes. Good. Very good.

Corporal Chen attacked. Zuko parted the flames and counterattacked with all the confidence Iroh had ever seen from him.

The form finished, Zuko took off the blindfold and turned around.

"That was excellent, my nephew. See, good things happen when you listen to your senses and to my advice." Zuko's expression didn't change at the praise, but his eyes seemed to lift from their usual sullen glare, just a little.

"I'm doing it without the blindfold now," he said. It wasn't a request.

"Very well. Remember what you did before, and use what you see to _enhance_ what you sense, not to replace it."

Zuko took his stance opposite Corporal Chen. The form went well once again, well enough that Zuko allowed himself a rare smile once it was finished. Iroh nodded approvingly. So the boy had learned something from his rather unorthodox teaching methods. Good, good.

"Now apply what you have learned. Show that you can use this form and all of your senses, not just vision, when you fight."

The two younger firebenders faced off while Iroh observed. Corporal Chen was naturally mediocre at best, while Zuko was powerful but unskilled. Chen's footwork was good, very balanced. Zuko's started off steady and strong, just the way he had been taught—but then, it started to deteriorate as he favored strong fire punches over balance and control. He was advancing steadily on Chen, but if the army firebender wanted to, he could easily knock the prince over.

"Balance, Prince Zuko! Stay connected to the ground!"

Zuko didn't listen. He moved faster now, weaving back and forth, feet not moving in any kind of proper form. His fire was wild, angry; plenty powerful, yes, but uncontrolled.

"Concentrate! Return to your basics!" Iroh commanded, but Zuko didn't comply fast enough—the turned-up toe of his boot caught on a warped deck plate, sending him falling down, down the stairs in the middle of the deck and into the hold.

Zuko put his arms out to catch himself. His right hand made contact with the floor first—a heavy fall, an awkward landing—and then he felt his arm break, a bright snap of pain that lanced all the way from his fingertips to his shoulder. A strangled gasp was all he could manage, the breath forced out of his lungs by the fall.

He gritted his teeth against the pain and pushed himself up to his knees, holding his arm close to his body. Through the haze, he could dimly sense Iroh coming down the stairs as fast as he could, his voice and the sound of his footsteps muffled by the pounding of Zuko's heartbeat in his ears. Zuko was vaguely aware of Iroh calling his name.

"My arm," he said in a shaky voice. He squeezed his eyes shut as Iroh carefully unlaced his right arm guard and slid it off as gently as he could—no matter how gentle he was, every movement sent darts through his flesh.

"Is broken," Iroh confirmed. "Come on. Let's get you to your room." His steady voice and the strong arm around Zuko's shoulders were comforting—his proverbs and tea obsession might have been annoying, but at that moment, Zuko could not deny how much he needed his uncle, not just when something went wrong, but all the time.

* * *

Some time later, Iroh went to the bridge. All he could do right now was to make Zuko as comfortable as possible until they made port—with the doctor gone, no one on the ship had the knowledge or skills to fix a broken arm.

Lieutenant Jee and Corporal Chen were there when he arrived. Their expressions clearly said "how is he?" even though neither of them said a word. None of the crew particularly _liked_ Zuko, but a year spent together on a ship at the remotest corners of the planet always created some sort of bond. In this case, many of the others saw Zuko as a little brother who _really_ needed a kick in the pants. Iroh went to the map spread out on the pai sho table. The nearest port… not good.

"We will have to stop here," he said, indicating the town.

"That's an Earth Kingdom port, sir," Lieutenant Jee said, frowning slightly. No matter how much respect the man had for the Dragon of the West, he couldn't see any way this would end well. "Unoccupied, and heavily defended. We wouldn't be able to get near enough to see it before they sent out battleships of their own. And even if we did manage to get into the town… "

"I know. It's still a couple of days away, so I will come up with a plan before we get there. We don't have much of a choice." Iroh sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I have an idea that may work, but I will need a few things. First of all, what sort of pain-relieving medicine do we have? My nephew may have much to learn about balance, but it is not necessary for him to continue to suffer, I think."

Jee and Chen looked at each other and then back at Iroh.

"I have some sake," the lieutenant offered.

* * *

Iroh returned to Zuko's room with a bottle in one hand. At first he thought that the boy was asleep, but he opened his eyes as the older man drew nearer. Beads of sweat had formed on his nose and forehead, and his skin was pale. That was what he looked like when he was in pain. Some people cried, some people swore a blue streak, but Zuko, as he did with every other challenge in his abnormally difficult life, just gritted his teeth and rode it out. Sometimes Iroh wished he would cry for once. As far as he knew, his nephew had not shed a tear since the Agni Kai.

Zuko's right arm rested on a soft roll of cloth. He winced every time the ship hit a rough wave and jostled the injured limb. Iroh sat down next to his futon, a post he had not left while Zuko was sick almost a full year previously.

"I'm sorry, Uncle," the prince said weakly. "I should have listened to you."

Iroh considered that for a moment. "Yes, you should have," he said at length. "It will be a day or two before we get close enough to a town. It's an Earth Kingdom town, so we won't be able to make port, and you and I will have to go in disguise."

"Okay." Zuko squeezed his eyes shut. "Why does it hurt so much more than…" he lifted his left hand to his face.

"I couldn't say. It might be because you were in shock when the burn was fresh, or maybe it's because it was a very deep burn." It could have been one of any number of factors, not the least of which was Zuko's dangerous obsession with finding the Avatar that had led to his illness. "Lieutenant Jee volunteered this for you, to take the edge off the pain," he said, holding up the bottle. "It's all we have, I'm afraid."

"I tried meditating. It didn't work."

"No, you should just rest, for now." He poured a small glass of sake and gave it to Zuko. "Here." Zuko took it and drank slowly, making a face. After another glass, his face relaxed slightly. Take the edge off. That's all they could do.

 _You're too young for this_ , Iroh thought. _You should be at home. You should have your mother with you still. The last thing you need is to be hurt at sea, with only your foolish old uncle to take care of you._ His heart ached with guilt, as it had every day for the past year. _I should never have let you go to that meeting. I should have done more to protect you from your father._ But it was clear that nothing could have stopped Ozai from removing his son from the line of succession, one way or another. It just didn't have to be this cruel.

Zuko's eyes were half-lidded and a small frown creased his forehead, but some color had returned to his cheeks, whether from the alcohol or from the slight decrease in pain. He looked a little better. That was something, at least.

Watching him, Iroh was drawn into a memory.

A young man, recently graduated from the Academy at the top of his class, wearing the insignia of a Major on his collar. He sat tall on the back of his komodo rhino, his helmet tucked under his arm at the moment, awaiting orders. Breaching the wall was only the beginning—the earthbenders would not surrender their city so easily.

 _"Lead the 84_ _th_ _Battalion past the wall and into the city,"_ Iroh had said to him. _"Major Jiang, Major Xu, and Major Lien and their men will be with you, but you are leading this charge."_

 _"Thank you, General Iroh, sir,"_ he had replied with a rakish grin. _"I will see you at the Earth King's palace."_

 _"Be safe, my son."_

 _"I will, Dad."_ With that, Iroh and Lu Ten clasped hands. A bugle sounded from afar. Lu Ten put his helmet on, suddenly anonymous behind the face plate. Father and son bid each other a final farewell before the young man turned his rhino around and headed out towards the ruins of the wall.

Word arrived after a few hours, splintered and frantic after being passed through many mouths. The city's most elite earthbenders, hundreds of them, had been deployed. It was an unexpected style of attack, a devastating strike that they had not been prepared for in the least. The aftermath—acres upon acres of shattered ground, jagged spikes of rock and huge cracks in the earth. Every Fire Nation soldier sent to the breach had been caught in the chaos—including the 84th Battalion.

The medical tents were in an uproar, filled with the dead and dying and too few beleaguered personnel. Colonel Huang was sending more doctors and supplies from his camp a few miles further down the wall, but they couldn't come fast enough. Iroh forced his way through the pandemonium, desperate to find his son.

As a prince and as Iroh's son, Lu Ten was at least given the luxuries of a curtained-off corner of a tent and the strongest opiates they had. But the damage was done. The diagnosis: severe internal bleeding, and too many broken bones to treat.

 _"Hi, Dad."_ His bloodless lips twitched up in a slight smile. A blanket covered him up to his chin, but telltale spots of blood stood out against the dark wool.

 _"Lu Ten… my son… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."_

 _"Don't be sorry, Dad."_ He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. _"Those earthbenders… pretty tough, huh?"_

Iroh couldn't speak. He placed a hand on his son's forehead—his skin felt cold and clammy. His eyelids fluttered. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible, a whisper so soft and fragile that, in the loud confusion all around them, it was a wonder Iroh heard it at all.

 _"Will you sing for me?"_

He wasn't sure if he could. A painful lump had formed in his throat as he tried to keep it together, to be strong for his son. He gave it a try anyway.

 _"Leaves from the vine… falling so slow…"_ That was all he could manage.

 _"Like fragile, tiny shells… drifting in the foam…"_ Lu Ten smiled, closed his eyes one last time, and said no more.

Hours later, Iroh finally spoke again, this time to his second-in-command.

 _"It's done. We're going home. I don't care what you tell the men."_ When Prince Lu Ten left the mortal world, General Iroh, Crown Prince of the Fire Nation and the Dragon of the West, went with him.

"Uncle? Is something wrong?" Zuko's voice brought Iroh abruptly back to the present. It took a moment for him to remember that he was no longer outside Ba Sing Se in autumn, but on a battleship in spring, and that it was an injured Zuko who lay before him, not a dying Lu Ten.

"No, my nephew. Nothing's wrong." He put a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "Try to get some rest. I'll be back to check on you in a little while."

* * *

Iroh managed to cobble together two vaguely-Earth Kingdom outfits from the most nondescript articles of clothing on the ship. The end result looked like what any peasant would wear—brownish, rough, and lacking any sort of adornment or distinguishing feature that would mark them as being from any nation in particular. Maybe he'd gone too far and they weren't distinctive _enough_. He found a round cloth hat for Zuko, a green Earth Kingdom ring for his topknot, and flat shoes for them both, and pronounced the end result acceptable. His last action, with just the slightest hesitation, was to shave off his sideburns. Oh well. They would grow back.

Every couple of hours, he went back to check on Zuko and to give him more sake, if necessary. Lieutenant Jee looked a little displeased when the bottle was returned to him more than half-empty, but by then they were close enough to the port that it was time to deploy the riverboat with Iroh and Zuko on board. A river emptied into the sea a few miles out from the town itself. They would take the boat up the river and land it far enough away so that it wouldn't be easily spotted, but close enough so that it wouldn't be a dreadfully long walk into town.

"Uncle?" Zuko giggled a little when Iroh came into his room with the boy's disguise over his arm. "Where's your sideburns?"

"They are temporarily gone, Prince Zuko. Here is your disguise—and remember, while we're out there, we're Earth Kingdom. No bending, and don't mention the ship."

"Yep! Hey… 'yep' and 'ship' rhyme! Uh… sort of." He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and managed to sit up, wincing slightly. If this is what it took to get him to smile… Iroh sighed and went to make a cup of tea while the ship drew closer to the town.

* * *

Their names were Chang and Wei. They traveled to the colonies to find work, but Chang had been practicing his bending far from home to avoid the Fire Nation and had gotten hurt. The Earth Kingdom port was closer, and the Fire Nation doctors in the colonies were too expensive, which explained why his uncle Wei had brought him there for medical treatment.

Most of it was technically true, the lies present only in their absence. Even so, the story would only hold if they weren't asked too many questions, and if "Chang" didn't blab in his drunken state. The disguises themselves weren't very convincing on their own. Dressing an old general and a young prince as Earth Kingdom commoners didn't change who they were. All it took was a small accident to knock Zuko's hat off and reveal his blatantly Fire Nation hair. They were already walking on thin ice with their yellow eyes, but there was nothing they could do about that. Scar aside, Zuko's features were too fine and aristocratic and his complexion was too fair to belong to a random peasant, and they both carried calluses and scars on their hands that came from weapons and firebending, not from farm or factory labor.

Too much balanced on the town's healers not being too nosy. Iroh shook his head. He didn't like to gamble on such high stakes, but they had no choice.

"Every cloud has a silver lining, Prince Zuko. Every trial, every misfortune has good that comes of it," he said. Zuko's face glistened with sweat in the moonlight, and his brow was still wrinkled in a frown. The liquor could only take the edge off, not remove the pain completely.

"It's like a silver sandwich," Zuko mumbled.

"Ah… yes, I suppose it is." The riverboat motored slowly away from the ship and headed in the direction of the lights on the horizon. If they were caught… Iroh didn't want to think about that. They might have been able to escape if they were both in perfect health, but they weren't. If they were caught, it would likely be the end for both of them.

It was a few hours before they reached the mouth of the river. With its lights doused, the ship was just a tiny dark spot in the water, far enough away that they would be in no danger. The terrain around the river was, thankfully, heavily forested—they would have no trouble hiding the boat and continuing on foot.

Glowing eyes watched them from the banks of the river, and large creatures disturbed the water from below. A cat-owl hooted somewhere in the distance. The moon was out, casting a silver glow on the leaves and on the gently rippling surface of the river. The boat's rumbling engine cut through the natural quiet, far too noisy for Iroh's comfort. They might be able to slip into town unseen, but the guards might just _hear_ them first.

"We are almost close enough to the town to land," Iroh said quietly. Zuko looked up, his eyes unfocused.

"But are we tose enough to clown… or, uh… un-close enough… or something… " He hiccupped.

"I don't think they will find the boat out here unless they're specifically looking for it. And let's hope they're not." He put a hand on Zuko's shoulder. "Remember. We're Earth Kingdom for now. Don't say anything about the Fire Nation. Better yet, let me do the talking."

"Sure thing, Uncle. 'S probably not a good idea for me to say stuff. I'm— _hic_ —a little intoxsh—intock—uh, drunk right now."

"That you are."

He slowed the boat down and landed it in a shallow, sandy lagoon. From there, it was about half an hour's walk down a game trail, which then turned into a gravel road and continued for another ten minutes or so before reaching the town's east gate. Iroh helped Zuko get out of the boat without hurting his arm any further or falling flat on his face in the mud—no mean feat, considering the sheer amount of sake he had consumed since the first glass.

"Lean on me, my nephew. We are almost there."

"Maybe I shouldn't have fired the doctor," Zuko said as they walked, the first coherent sentence he had said that night.

"No, that was a necessary decision. If we had been closer to a colonial town, we wouldn't be doing this right now. We were just caught in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I'm never in the right plashe at the right time."

"You make your own luck, Prince Zuko. Remember that." Zuko grumbled a little under his breath at that piece of wisdom, but didn't have anything to say. They walked in silence until the eastern gate came into view, an etched outline in the stone wall that surrounded the town. "We're coming up to the guards now. Don't say anything." Iroh did not drink anymore—he'd gotten into too many unpleasant situations in his youth that came from an overly loose tongue. Hopefully Zuko would be able to keep his silence now.

"Name and business," said the gate guard in a gruff voice.

"I am Wei, and this is my nephew Chang," said Iroh, straight-faced. "I brought him here to see a healer."

"Well, he sure doesn't look good. He doesn't have the pox, does he?" The guard frowned. "This city's clean. We won't have that disease here."

"No, no, just a broken arm." So, there was an illness in these parts… another good thing about living at sea. "He's not sick. He is drunk, though," Iroh offered by way of explanation. Zuko really did look like he was suffering from something other than a broken arm, the way he was staggering around and always leaning to one side.

"Ah. Carry on." The guard stomped, and the gate opened. Once they were inside, it sealed shut behind them.

It took a while to find a healing house that would take their Fire Nation money that they had earned in a perfectly legitimate, law-abiding manner by working honest jobs in the colonies. The stars had started to fade by the time they found such a place ("as long as it's money!" the girl at the door had said), and Zuko was nodding off even as he stood.

The healer on duty was a tall, willowy woman with long, dark hair. She had Zuko lie down while she treated him, mostly because he was wondering aloud why the room was spinning. She peered at his face while palpating his injured arm, a concerned frown appearing on her brow.

"How did he get that scar?" she asked.

"A firebender gave it to him," Iroh answered truthfully. "Said he needed to show some respect."

"That's awful. It just seems like the victims get younger and younger." She shook her head, looking sorrowful. "Either off to the front or working to support those who are. He can't be a day over… what, thirteen?"

"Fourteen. He's always been a bit short for his age." Zuko protested this fact, but Iroh just smiled and patted him on the head. "Do you have children of your own?"

The healer smiled. "Yes, two." She turned back to Zuko with a leather strap. "Bite down on this, Chang. I'm going to set the bone, okay?" Zuko gave a muffled word of assent around the strap. She took his forearm in a firm but gentle grip—Iroh flinched at the faint crunching sound and Zuko's yelp of pain.

"It feels better already," the prince said dreamily as soon as he was able to.

"I'm glad."

"You shmell nice."

The healer laughed behind her hand. "Thank you, Chang. That's always nice to hear." Mere minutes later, Zuko's arm was bound up in a splint and hanging in a sling, money had changed hands, and Chang and Wei were headed home.

As they were leaving, the healer bowed to them, low and graceful, in the Fire Nation style.

* * *

It was morning by the time they got back to the ship. The return trip was a lot less stressful—they had accomplished their goal and were now far enough away from enemy territory to be safe. Without even bothering to take off his disguise, Zuko all but fell into bed and passed out the moment he went into his room.

Iroh went to check on him later that day. He was still lying in bed, and greeted his uncle with a small groan when he opened the door.

"Would you care for some tea, my nephew?"

Zuko cracked open one very bloodshot eye and flung a boot in Iroh's general direction. It bounced off the wall a good five feet away from its target.

"Glad to see you're back to your old self again!"

"Ugh. Go 'way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is that healer lady? I don't know. She could be a spy, maybe she has relatives in the Fire Nation, maybe she's just into unity and acceptance, she might be an exiled Fire Nation princess, or maybe Iroh and Zuko are just tired/drunk and their eyes are playing tricks on them. She is whoever you want her to be.


	9. Coffee

Iroh and Zuko's little adventure had added a few more days to their journey, and an unfortunate explosion in the engine room had added a few more as they stopped at the next occupied port to buy new parts and to make repairs. At this rate, Zuko was beginning to think that they wouldn't make it to the Eastern Air Temple until he was thirty-seven. They were finally making good progress, with the wind at their back and the boilers burning hot and efficient, when they were stopped yet again.

It wasn't sea ice or a broken arm this time. It was worse—it was someone whom Zuko had hoped he would never have to see again.

The sleek, top-of-the-line Empire class warship pulled up alongside Zuko's ship. They signaled for the smaller vessel to stop, and that their captain wished to speak with him. Zuko's dread was growing steadily as he made his way off the bridge and out onto the deck, with Iroh, Lieutenant Jee, and the soldiers in tow. He knew who the ship belonged to. He knew by the arctic wolverine emblem on its flags. It had been over a year since his banishment, and he hadn't been bothered by _him_ so far. He had taken that as a good sign. Turns out the bastard was just waiting for the right moment.

The other ship's boarding party made their way across the ramp, the captain flanked by several masked firebenders. Zuko felt the fingers of his left hand curl into a fist.

"Well hello, Prince Zuko," said Captain Zhao, smirking and placing just the slightest hint of a sarcastic emphasis on his title. "I never thought I'd find _you_ here. General Iroh…" he gave a shallow bow. "And _Lieutenant_ Jee, so _nice_ to see you again." Zuko wondered if there was anyone whom Zhao did not antagonize upon meeting. Zhao and Jee had been in the same class at the Academy, and the former, a nobleman's son, had been furious when the latter, a tailor's son, had graduated ahead of him. Now Zhao obviously relished reminding Jee of his infamous demotion.

"Captain Zhao," Zuko said flatly.

"It looks like you've had some hard times lately," Zhao said. His eyes went from the scorch marks and tacked-on sheet metal on the outside of the engine room, to Iroh's half-grown-in sideburns, to Zuko's right arm, which still rested in a sling, to the scar on his face. Not that he had any reason to pretend like he didn't know where it came from. He'd seen the Agni Kai along with Iroh, Azula, and half the capital, including, horribly, Mai.

"Minor setbacks," Zuko replied through tight lips.

"Of course. The quest must continue. Join me for a drink?" he said with a snake's grin. When Zhao invited you in for a drink, it wasn't a request. Zuko was about to refuse anyway, but Iroh answered for him.

"Of course," he said. "Perhaps we can exchange news."

"Indubitably." Zhao turned on his heel and went back to his ship, grinning. Zuko remained motionless for a few seconds, shot his uncle a venomous look, and finally followed Zhao onto the other ship, fist still clenched and teeth gritted so hard that they creaked.

"He may be a hogmonkey of a man, but we haven't heard anything from the Fire Nation in months," Iroh said under his breath as they boarded the impressive battleship. "We need news. The men are especially anxious."

"I hate him, Uncle."

"So do I. But if we get this over with now, he may not feel the need to bother us in the future."

* * *

Fact: Firelord Ozai loves coffee.

His enthusiasm for the stuff was comparable to his brother's enthusiasm for tea. The single province within the Fire Nation that was able to grow coffee enjoyed special privileges, up to and including visits from the Firelord himself. The small island colony in the southern Earth Kingdom that produced coffee had the good fortune of remaining largely self-governed in exchange for the fruits of their labors (to further appease their foreign emperor, the island's coffee barons had put their heads together to come up with a special "Phoenix Blend" just for him, and had been richly rewarded). Even though the drink itself was still completely unknown in most parts of the world, Ozai's example had created something of a coffee fad in the Capital—not a sensation massive enough to unseat tea, but a nice little trend.

One might joke that he loved coffee more than his own children (only to giggle awkwardly and change the subject upon finding out that this was absolutely true). The easiest way to gain a quick burst of favor with him was to develop a palate and to be able to talk coffee for long enough to put him in a good mood. Once Ozai took the throne, the entire palace smelled like coffee, from the royal family's residence to the banquet hall to the throne room itself. The aroma had hardwired a very specific set of connotations and emotions into Zuko's brain from the moment he was born.

Captain Zhao had been a near-constant fixture at the palace, always currying favor with Firelords Azulon and Ozai, for as long as Zuko could remember. He had been one of the first to figure out that coffee was the quickest way into Ozai's good graces, and was something of an aficionado himself. His honeyed words over the drink had gotten him command of his fancy new ship and his skill as a military leader had helped him keep it.

The strong, dark smell that Zuko knew so well slammed into him as he and Iroh followed Zhao into his office. It reminded him of home. It triggered hundreds of memories, good and bad and everything in between. It reminded him of his father, of the way Ozai would breathe in deeply and smile before taking the first sip.

It made him sick.

His stomach clenched as soon as he walked into the office. Every muscle in his body tensed and his jaw tightened as he willed his face to stay neutral despite the churning in his belly. He would not give Zhao the benefit of seeing him suffer.

He sat in the indicated chair and tried to take deep breaths to calm himself, but doing so just made it worse. He had to get out of this stuffy little coffee-smell room. Beneath the table, Iroh grabbed his wrist and held tight.

 _Thank you, Uncle_.

Zhao was saying something about the war's progress in the eastern Earth Kingdom. Iroh listened and carried on the conversation with maximum civility—Zuko's silence was probably taken as mere surliness, which wasn't entirely unfounded. The two of them had been enemies almost from the beginning. Zuko didn't know why, and he was certain Zhao didn't know why, either. But it remained that Zhao was more arrogant and Zuko was more hostile when they were in each other's company.

Zhao set out three cups and poured a steaming golden stream of coffee into each one. Zuko's breath caught in his throat as the navy man slid a cup towards him, smiling as though he knew exactly how Zuko was feeling and why he was feeling this way.

He would be expected to take a drink. To refuse would be a serious insult. But he couldn't, not yet. He had to gather the gumption first.

"The Fire Sages will confirm Princess Azula as the Fire Lord's heir when she turns sixteen," Zhao said in that same social tone. "She is, of course, the heir apparent at this moment, but it will be made official and _permanent_ at that time."

 _Great. Now I have a time limit._ "That's good for her," Zuko managed to say. Firelord Azula… now there was something he hoped he never had to see.

"Yes… yes it is." Zhao noted Zuko's untouched coffee and smiled. Iroh at least was drinking his and managing to conceal his distaste. "There's been plenty of gossip in the capital lately about Governor Yao's daughter," he continued. "Apparently it's been difficult for him to find anyone willing into enter into negotiations for her hand. When her last betrothal agreement was dissolved, it took quite a toll on her social status."

 _He's doing this on purpose_. _Arrogant jackass._ Zuko tried very hard not to think of Mai too much, on top of everything else weighing down on him at that moment. He tried not to think about her sitting completely alone—he had been her only real friend, just as she was his, no matter how much Azula insisted that Mai was her _best friend in the whole world_. He tried not to picture her being betrothed (ugh, that word again) to someone else.

"I'm sure it'll work out eventually," he finally said in a flat, mechanical tone.

"Yes, of course. Now, Prince Zuko…" he took a sip of coffee, apparently relishing it a great deal by his expression. "You never told me how you broke your arm. I'm sure it's a _thrilling_ tale." Zuko looked at his face and knew that he had already heard the story. The colonial town where they had stopped recently was a bustling navy port. If Zhao had been there any time in the past week—which he probably had—his men would have heard it in the taverns, which is where Zuko's traitorous men had undoubtedly related it. He had to admit that it did make for a good drinking story. And now Zhao meant to gloat. Of course.

"I fell down the stairs."

"I found it somewhat interesting that you had to go into an Earth Kingdom port—in disguise, no less!—for treatment. Is there some reason you can't keep a doctor on your ship?"

Zuko did not feel like giving Zhao the stumbling explanation that he obviously expected. Instead, he freed his left hand and curled his fingers around his coffee cup. Slowly, he lifted it to his lips and tried not to breathe in the fumes as he drank. His stomach was already threatening mutiny—it only got worse when the hot, bitter liquid touched his tongue. He thought that the smell brought back too many memories, but the taste brought back a hundred times more.

 _You will learn respect…_

Zuko carefully set his cup down, desperately trying to fight off the memory. Zhao, still grinning, leaned closer.

"It's a pretty good roast, isn't it?" he said. A wave of coffee breath wafted over to the hapless prince. "Would you say that you're more of a coffee man or a tea man, Prince Zuko?"

 _...and suffering will be your teacher._

"Tea," Zuko spat before he understood the full implications of the question and realized, belatedly, that he probably should have said coffee.

"Thought so."

Zhao kept them there a little longer, passing on a few more bits of news from the Capital, asking about their travels, and topping off Zuko's cup with barely-concealed glee. Iroh took over answering the majority of the questions, but he could sense Zuko's great discomfort and tried several times to end the conversation in a polite manner. Finally he insisted in an uncharacteristically sharp voice that they fully intended to make use of the good weather and that they would be leaving now.

Zuko's head swam when he stood up. It didn't improve when Iroh steered him towards the door and pushed him out into the fresh air. It seemed as though a cloud of coffee-air had surrounded his body, refusing to dissipate despite the cool breeze rolling off the ocean.

He picked up speed, stumbling across the ramp and onto his own ship. Iroh signaled to Lieutenant Jee to get them underway while the other ship's crew darted about their duties to get them moving as well.

Zuko spied an empty bucket on the deck. He grabbed it and made his way up to his room as fast as he could without sacrificing what was left of his dignity. The halls and stairs seemed twice as long as they normally were, every step an effort to stay upright and moving. Once inside the sanctuary of his own room, he slammed the door behind him with a deafening metallic _CLANG_ and flung the bucket to the floor. With that, he sank to his knees and promptly threw up.

The half-ounce of coffee he had forced himself to drink came right back up, along with the noodles and tea he had had for breakfast. Simply the memory of being stuck in Zhao's office, unable to escape, surrounded by the thing that brought back all the strongest recollections of his father, some good but most bad, made him retch again and again until there was nothing left.

At that moment, Zuko felt like he had reached a new low, sitting hunched over his bucket thanks to something as insignificant as a sip of coffee. He was too concerned with willing his stomach to calm down to notice the passage of time, and flinched slightly when Iroh's hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present. Wordlessly, he pressed a cup of water into Zuko's hand.

"How did he know this would happen?" Zuko said feebly after he had rinsed out his mouth.

"He didn't. We didn't, either. I suspect he knew that he was bringing up… unpleasant memories for you, but…"

"When I become Firelord, I'm outlawing coffee."

"Ah, good." There was a long silence between them. In a year at sea, that was the first time Zuko had said anything about what he would do upon ascending the throne. Zuko had not been entirely serious, but Iroh worried a little that his nephew had false hope. Both of them knew that the likelihood of Zuko fulfilling the terms of his banishment was almost zero, but only Iroh acknowledged that truth openly to Zuko and to himself.

Zuko spoke again after a few moments. "Why does Zhao hate me so much? What did I ever do to him?"

"I couldn't say why he insists on this dishonorable behavior. A powerful Navy captain tormenting a fourteen-year-old exile reeks of simple pettiness to me, Prince Zuko. He is a natural bully, and considers you an easy target." At this, Zuko's shoulders tensed.

"I am not weak," he hissed, his good eye narrowing.

"I never said you were. But Zhao _thinks_ that you are. He is a small man with a withered soul and little to redeem him. Do not pay any mind to his opinions."

Zuko swished some water around in his mouth and spat it back out. To Uncle's words, he said nothing, but the slight softening around his furrowed brow let Iroh know that he had at least taken some small comfort from them. Very carefully, he set his cup down and stood up, his legs still shaky and uncertain. Iroh stood up as well and steadied him by wrapping an arm around his back. Zuko did not try to shrug him off, for once. He didn't return the embrace, but at least he let it happen.

* * *

Zuko's depression was quickly replaced by anger and barely-concealed frustration, not helped by the fact that he had to maneuver his chopsticks with his left hand. By lunchtime he felt a little better and could eat a bit of rice to settle his stomach, but wasn't having much luck actually consuming any. It always fell back to his bowl before it reached his mouth. He pinched his chopsticks, willing them to cooperate, until his fingertips turned white.

Finally, he snapped and threw the offending utensils across the room with a strangled roar of fury.

"I hate this! I hate not being able to do anything! I can't see, I can't use my arm for anything, and now I can't even feed myself!" He jumped to his feet and kicked a nearby jug of wash water across the room after the chopsticks, where it shattered against the wall with a satisfying, wet smash. "I'm just… _broken_!" His voice cracked on the last word. Iroh was unfazed by his outburst, but his face took on a sorrowful cast at that final declaration. He had put on another pot of jasmine tea to steep—Zuko had drunk nearly the entire first pot by himself—and was now refilling their cups. The floral smell filled the room to the ceiling.

"Sit down, Prince Zuko. Have some more tea."

"I don't want any!"

"At least allow me to tell you something." Iroh took Zuko's silence as an invitation to continue. "You are not broken. Your arm will heal in time and I daresay your eye might as well. Think of this difficult time as a challenge. It happened to you at this time to see how you would react, how you would respond. Depending on how you view this opportunity, you will come out of it stronger than before."

"I can't do it, Uncle. I always had my firebending to keep my mind off it. Now I can't practice until my arm is better." He gave a ragged sigh of irritation. "I don't have an outlet for all this stress. All this anger. I just have to keep it inside, and I hate it."

" _Never_ channel your anger when you firebend," Iroh said suddenly, with much more vehemence than he had shown previously. Zuko was momentarily startled. "It is not the right way. Fire does not come from anger. Fire is life, my nephew. It is purpose, and direction. It should never be fueled by anger, or it will tear your spirit apart."

"I don't know how to do it any other way."

"Yes, you do." Iroh handed Zuko his teacup, which had started to cool off. "Show me. Heat this tea, and do not let anger be your driving force. There is something within you that must become your fire."

 _Driving force, huh?_

He took the cup and stared into the pale golden-green liquid. In his mind, he pictured the Avatar, an image he had pieced together from the scraps of information he had gotten since beginning his search. An old man, bald, with tattoos. He didn't have a face—there were any number of possibilities there.

 _I will find you. I will catch you. And I will prove once and for all that I am not weak._

The tea began to boil in its cup.


	10. The Pirate Ship

The other ship had been lurking on the horizon for hours. It hadn't sent a signal, approached Zuko's ship, or acknowledged the smaller ship's existence in any way since it had first come into view a little before dawn.

Zuko's eyes burned from staring through his long glass for so long. He could make out some details of the other ship—it was a Conqueror-class, half again the size of his Seeker-class ship, with maybe three short-range catapults to his one. Every Fire Navy ship flew unique flags to identify it, but this ship didn't. Additionally, he could tell from this distance that it wasn't kept up to navy code—rust and barnacles covered most of the hull, whereas Zuko always made sure his ship was fighting fit despite not being a part of an official fleet.

"It's a renegade, sir," Lieutenant Jee explained when Zuko asked about it. "Probably a pirate—the ship itself isn't equipped for land raids. I can't tell from here if it was captured or if the whole crew mutinied."

"Do they mean to attack us?"

"They're probably trying to decide if it's worth it. Unless they're all Fire Navy traitors, it's unlikely that they have a single bender on board."

"What are our chances?" Zuko was liking the situation less and less the more he heard.

"I don't think we could outrun them if it came to it. In a fight… it depends on too many things, like whether or not they're firebenders or how many there are. They won't have a full crew, though. My first post was a pirate hunter," he continued. "The men on these kinds of ships are used to fighting firebenders. I expect a full-on fight to be very bloody," he concluded.

"Can we turn around now, or will that just make them follow?"

"Probably. They'll take that as a cue that not only are we unable to defeat them, but that we also have something we want to protect." Jee collapsed his long glass. "Our best bet is to wait. Several things could happen—another Fire Navy ship could come by, and tip the odds in our favor, or the pirate will decide we're not worth attacking and go its own way. Or they could attack us, in which case…"

"Spirits of fire defend us," Zuko finished under his breath.

They were too far from port to be able to make it back before the renegade caught up with them—what little they'd seen of land in the past week had been uninhabited, mostly cliffs and rocks. By his calculations, they were only a day or two out from the Eastern Air Temple, and the port city closest to it was newly occupied. That was their best bet if they needed to run. It wasn't a Navy shipyard, but there would be larger warships supporting the occupation. They would be safer there, possible unrest among the citizens notwithstanding.

"If they attack, we will put as much distance between us and them as possible," Zuko said after a few moments of reflection. "The closer we can get to an occupied port, the better. For now, we wait."

"Very good, sir," Jee said, sounding a little pleased.

Zuko collapsed his own glass and started back to the bridge. He paused for a moment as a very dangerous thought crossed his mind.

"Lieutenant," he said. "I was wondering… hypothetically, of course… how much we could expect to gain if we were to take it as a prize."

Jee's eyebrows shot up. "That depends on how good they are at piracy," he said. "Not to mention the reward the Fire Nation would…" He seemed to realize what he was saying and cleared his throat. "Not that it matters; it would not be a good idea to try."

"Yeah. Just wondering." Pondering this, Zuko went up to the bridge, where Iroh was, as usual, fleecing Sergeant Shogo at pai sho. _Play a strategy game against the Dragon of the West, and you'll lose every time,_ the prince thought with a smirk, shaking his head slightly. He stretched his right arm, only a few days out of its splint, and wondered if he was going to have a weather-wise ache in it, like every seasoned sailor had.

After scanning the charts one more time, he looked out at the sea. The renegade was a spot on the horizon, still unmoving and uncommunicative. Zuko couldn't help but wonder what kind of loot it was carrying, despite Lieutenant Jee's warnings. At the very least, the Fire Nation reward for its capture would be enough to hold them over well into the next year. And that was if the pirate's hold was completely empty.

 _It's too dangerous. It's not worth risking the entire ship for a little extra money._

* * *

That afternoon, nothing had changed. Neither ship had moved or communicated with the other. There was always at least one man on a long glass, watching for any movement, but the only sign of life from the other ship was the dark plume rising from its smokestacks. The catapult was ready to fire if necessary, and so far the plan was to try to take out the other ship's catapults if they attacked first. "Try" being the key word—they still had more artillery and probably a longer range as well.

Zuko couldn't keep still. His fingers drummed the railings, his toes tapped the floor, and he took to wandering around the ship instead of standing or sitting in one place. He couldn't find enough things to do, and once he started on a project, he quickly lost interest and went to find something else to do.

He resorted to shutting himself in his room and shaving his head, even though he'd already done so that morning and his scalp was still perfectly smooth. It was relaxing. He always ran through his daily routine while shaving in the mornings, and after a year it had become a sort of mental exercise.

The process was familiar and always the same. His fingers (he still refrained from looking in the mirror) knew the different steps so well that he probably could have done it in his sleep. First he sharpened his razor—four strokes of the whetstone on either side of the blade—and wet his head with seawater, fresh water being too precious to use for washing. He shaved around the diamond-shaped base of his ponytail first, and then carefully shaved around the wrinkled edges of his scar. The rest was easy, just long, parallel swipes from the front to the back all the way around.

 _What if they attack us? What if we can't run away or fight them off? What if they sink the ship? It's my home. I'm not getting another one… what if they_ sink _my_ home _? Then what? Where will I go? I'll never be able to capture the Avatar without the ship. If they sink us, I am never going back to the Fire Nation. And what about the crew? What about Uncle? What would I do if he—no, I'm not going to think about that._ Zuko squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the notion out of his head. He set his razor down and ran his hands over his head, checking for any stray stubble.

Uncle always asked why Zuko kept his hair that way, the symbolic shave he had received upon his banishment. It was a mark of shame, just like his scar, but one that he didn't have to bear. That was why he kept it. To grow his hair out, as if to deny that anything had happened to it in the first place, would be giving up. A full head of hair could belong to anyone; it blended into the crowd. But Zuko's hair… it represented two things: his disgrace, and his quest. That he had been banished, but sent on a mission to regain his honor. It was a reminder for everyone, especially himself.

Zuko would do whatever it took to continue that quest. The pirate ship was in his way. If it came to it, he would remove it from his path, no matter what.

* * *

The hours crawled by, and still nothing happened. Zuko was finally able to relax by sinking into deep meditation before his altar, sitting in a perfect lotus with his hands on his knees. The four candles in front of him burned bright, then dimmed, then flared up again in time with his breath, casting long shadows across the room. He could feel his inner flame growing cool—the sun was beginning to set.

By controlling his breath, Zuko was able to assess the current situation with a clear head, instead of the frustrated muddle he had when not meditating.

Uncle had sent out a messenger hawk to request backup, but they had not gotten an answer yet, either in the form of a warship or a note dismissing their plight. With no word from the Fire Navy and no clue as to what the renegade was planning, they could only wait, as they had been doing for what seemed like a month. If the renegade was planning to attack at night, while the firebenders were weakened due to the sun's absence, then that was a whole other problem they would have to deal with. Their firebending would be weak, they would be unable to get accurate catapult shots at the other ship, and any hand-to-hand combat would be a confused mess. Zuko was worried for himself as well—his eyesight was bad enough in broad daylight, but in the dark, it was that much worse.

 _I hate my life_ , he thought with a depressed sort of resignation.

Feeling a little better after meditating for so long, he stood, stretched out his legs, and trudged up the stairs to the bridge. Iroh was playing pai sho again, this time with Lieutenant Jee, who seemed to be shrewder than Sergeant Shogo at the game… at least, he hadn't lost as many tiles, but then again Uncle probably had a surprise in store. He did that sometimes, pretended to be doing poorly until the last moment, when he captured all of the powerful pieces and collected the pot in one fell swoop.

 _"Sometimes it is wise to feign weakness, my nephew,"_ he had said one time. Zuko raised his eyebrow in surprise at that memory—it had been almost five years since it happened, shortly after Uncle returned from Ba Sing Se. Zuko was only a child then.

"Any news?" he asked after looking over the pai sho board to see that Iroh would soon be executing one of his favorite strategies to win the game.

"None from either the Fire Navy or the other ship, sir," the lieutenant replied, his brow furrowed as he looked over his options. He moved his rabbit tile to the Earth region. Iroh smiled benignly and boxed it in with his white lotus tile. Lieutenant Jee slapped his forehead when he realized what just happened . "That _lotus tile_ ," he grumbled under his breath, "comes out of nowhere, damn it all…"

"Most think it insignificant, and that is their undoing," Iroh said. "It is easily ignored, and I use that to my advantage." Their game finished, Iroh put his tiles away and tucked the white lotus into his sleeve. "Walk with me, Prince Zuko. There is something I want to talk to you about." He stood up with a little difficulty and headed down the stairs. Zuko followed him out onto the deck.

The sea sparkled in the sunset, a contrast against the dark water and the drab, utilitarian environment of the ship. The renegade ship was an ominous black spot in the distance, sending a plume of smoke into the otherwise clear ocean air. Iroh walked to the side of the ship with his hands still hidden in his sleeves and looked out at the horizon.

"There will be a battle, my nephew," he said.

"How do you know?"

"I have been a soldier since before your father was born. After so many years… you develop a sense for it." He sighed. "We have, at most, twenty-four hours."

"What if they decide not to attack?"

"They won't. Prince Zuko, there is no way to prepare you for your first battle. It is impossible. There are no words to describe it, and even if there were, I don't think words would be adequate. I can, however, tell you that it will be unlike anything you have ever experienced. Foot soldiers call the first battle 'the beast,' and for good reason. All I can do is warn you, and fight by your side when the time comes."

"I don't need to be protected."

"Nonsense. No nephew of mine is going to battle pirates—"

"—without some backup," Zuko finished, his lips twitching in a slight smile. "I know, Uncle."

Iroh looked over his nephew, one eyebrow raised slightly. "You seem to be in a good mood today. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," Zuko answered automatically. But once he thought about it, he realized that had been thinking about all kinds of things. Their coal supply, the position of the renegade ship, the tightness of his shirt around his shoulders and the fact that he needed to get new clothes the next time they made port, whether he preferred jasmine or orange tea with his fish and rice, whether or not he was getting better at using his swords… plenty of things. What he _hadn't_ thought extensively about was his home, his family, his quest, the Avatar, the few friends he had left behind (including Mai), his honor… not a day went by that he didn't think about these things, but the present situation was more important at the moment. Everything else had faded into the background.

"Maybe you should try thinking about nothing more often," Iroh replied with a knowing smile. "Come and have a cup of tea. I came up with a new blend myself and I think you might like it."

* * *

It happened late that night.

Zuko knew it would be unwise to try to get to sleep, so he settled for a catnap on his futon, still fully-armored and with half an ear open so that he wouldn't be caught off guard in case of an attack. It was less than relaxing, but better than nothing. It seemed that as soon as he closed his eyes, the ship rocked and groaned in the water, the muffled splash of something heavy falling next to it echoing throughout the ship's metal corridors.

Zuko scrambled to his feet and ran out of his room, down the stairs, and out onto the deck. It was pitch black outside—aside from the dim red light that came from the bridge windows, it was impossible to see anything. The moon was new and the stars were covered by a thin cloud that had formed at dusk. A small flame sprang to life in Zuko's hand and he held it up, identifying the men who poured out onto the deck.

"What happened?" Zuko asked once he found Lieutenant Jee in the darkness.

"They fired on us. It landed just off the port bow."

Zuko checked his pockets for his long glass before remembering that he had left it in his room. Not that he would be able to see much through it in this light. "Helmsman! Full steam ahead!" They had to put as much distance as possible between them and the other ship—they wouldn't last if they were caught out at sea. "Raise the catapult!" he shouted as loudly as he could. A spark of fire blossomed in the distance—the pirates had lit another projectile. They only had a little time.

The men raised the catapult to the deck, gears grinding as the lift brought it up. A round rock, coated in sticky black pitch, was at the ready. Corporal Chen lit it while Zuko and Lieutenant Jee tried to determine the distance of the other ship. The waves started to speed past, a long white wake forming in the dark water behind them as they picked up speed.

The pirate ship followed, never letting Zuko's ship out of its range. Zuko squinted into the night. Just a little closer and they would be lined up and ready to fire… just a bit…

"FIRE!" Two voices yelled instead of just one—the prince and the lieutenant looked at each other suddenly, each surprised at having the exact same thought at the exact same time, but their disbelief was interrupted by the fireball flying through the night, making an arc all the way to the other ship.

Fire splashed where the rock landed. Smoke billowed up from the deck and into the dark sky.

"It hit!" Zuko said incredulously, more to himself than to any of his men. "Reload!"

Another round rock was rolled up into the catapult. One of the men upended a bucket of pitch over it, and another lit it with his firebending. But the other ship had not lost its catapult, and another fireball soared toward Zuko's ship before they could take aim.

It slammed into the hull, rocking the ship and nearly tipping it over—men scrambled for something to hold onto until it righted itself again. The ship's metal hull was dented, a smoking crater smeared with still-burning pitch as the fireball itself sank down, deep down into the ocean.

That had taken away some of their momentum. They were no longer cutting through the water so swiftly, and they were already paying for it. The pirate moved ever closer. Even damaged, smoke still billowing from its deck, that damn ship was _fast_.

"They're in range," Zuko said to his catapult crew. Another fireball had been lit on the other ship. "Take aim… on my mark…" Wait for it… there. The two ships were lined up with allowance for the other ship's faster movement. "Fire!"

 _Please don't miss, please don't miss_ … Zuko thought urgently. The fireball flew straight and true, and slammed into the other ship's bridge in an explosion of twisted metal and shattered glass. _Yes!_ But he didn't notice the rapid counterattack, the third fireball flying equally straight and true towards his ship.

It slammed home in the worst possible place—behind the command tower, right where the engine room was. The impact roared through the whole ship, tossing firebenders and soldiers alike to the deck in heaps. _Dammit, not again_ , Zuko thought as he picked himself up as quickly as his confused body would go. They'd just repaired that stupid engine room.

"Sir, we're losing speed!" someone shouted from that general direction.

"Tell me something I _don't_ know!" Zuko snarled. He looked back at the catapult. Lieutenant Jee was watching and waiting for the right time to launch. The prince looked wildly around the rest of the ship, still trying to orient himself in the darkness. A warm hand closed on his shoulder and steadied him—Uncle. Uncle was there. "They got us, Uncle. Right in the engines."

"It'll be all right if we keep our heads."

The ship was gaining. Gaining fast. Zuko didn't know how it could possibly be all right.

"Fire!" Lieutenant Jee commanded. Their fireball flew and made contact once again—by now, the other ship was close enough so they could tell that they had, indeed, taken out one of the pirate's two catapults. A ragged _hurrah_! rose from Zuko's men. "Reload!" They rolled up and doused another rock. "Fire!" With almost surreal precision, the next fireball punched a hole in the middle of the pirate's deck, sending men scattering away from the point of impact.

They recovered quickly, though, and sent an expertly-placed fireball right at Zuko's ship. It skimmed the deck, not touching it, but it swept Corporal Chen right out to sea. His last sound was a startled yelp.

 _No time to focus on that, now. We have to take out that other catapult_.

Zuko took a deep breath. The other ship was all but pulled up alongside his, still in range, but close enough that he could see the men scurrying about on deck. Some were just lying there, burnt or bloody or otherwise broken. Something was locked away within Zuko, something that would have a very major problem with the sight of such carnage if he had been in any other situation.

"On my mark," said the lieutenant. The catapult crew tensed, waiting for the right moment. A veritable eternity passed before it was time. "Fire!"

The rock flew. The pirate's remaining catapult collapsed underneath it. The crew cheered again.

"It is not over," Iroh said to everyone, not just Zuko. "Prepare for boarding."

 _Uh-oh_. Zuko took a deep breath and wondered what that would involve.

Zuko's ship pulled up as close alongside the other as it could, engines still billowing smoke. The other ship's deck wasn't much higher than theirs—a few grappling hooks connected the two quite well. So far it had been all right. They hadn't lost the ship. They'd lost Corporal Chen, but as far as anyone knew, he was the only casualty compared to the pirates' handful. But the sounds of swords being unsheathed and the pirates' angry yells let them know that they would not be giving up so easily.

The time seemed to move slowly, even though the action was frantic. Strangely, all Zuko could think of as he and his men prepared to board was that these pirates looked almost exactly like he had imagined them to. The captain had a peg leg and a red reptile bird on his shoulder, and a wickedly curved sword in his hand. The rest were a motley bunch, all tattooed and battle-damaged in some way. A few wore the remnants of Fire Nation uniforms, signifying either a mutiny or a raid on the ship's stores. Zuko suspected the latter, given the strong Earth Kingdom features on most of them.

He could barely feel the chain in his hands as he climbed across to the other ship. The shouts and clamor all around him were strangely muted as his crew bridged the gap and landed on the punctured deck, which was illuminated by the dull light of the burning pitch that coated the remains of the two catapults. The fighting started immediately, pirates and firebenders clashing in every direction. Zuko's hands moved automatically—he had drilled these forms for so long that he did them without thinking, knocking a sword or spear out of the way with his armored forearms and retaliating with fire blasts.

Just to his right, a pirate fell and dropped his spear. A large pirate, tattooed with a huge, coiled snake on his bare chest, was suddenly on him, wielding hooked swords and bellowing as he charged. Zuko took his stance and prepared to trip him, but suddenly found himself flat on his back, legs snatched right out from under him by the hooks.

The pirate leaped, swords raised, ready for the kill—

Zuko didn't plan it. He reached out, grabbed the dropped spear and raised it at the last second.

His world went from oddly quiet to suddenly and horribly clear at the moment of impact. The spearhead stuck in the pirate's chest with a wet _splunch_. Hot blood dripped down the length of the spear and onto Zuko's hands as the pirate gasped and twitched and dropped his swords. Zuko rolled him to one side and tried to stand up, but only made it to his knees, still looking down at the dark stains on his hands.

"Get up! You're all right!" A loud voice and a rough hand on his arm yanking him to his feet brought him out of it. Zuko looked up to see Lieutenant Jee rejoining the fray, immediately dropping a pirate with an elbow to the throat. Zuko, still shaken, joined him and the others in rounding up the survivors. Uncle was there as well, looking uncharacteristically fierce, but thankfully unhurt.

They soon had the remaining pirates surrounded and subdued. The losing party was surly, but they dropped their weapons easily enough when they saw that they had lost. Better to hang in the Earth Kingdom than to be killed by firebenders.

* * *

"Chen was the only one, sir," said Sergeant Shogo immediately following the battle, as the remaining pirates were escorted into their own prison hold. "Cuts and bruises all around, a few are serious, but nothing immediately fatal."

Zuko nodded once. "Lieutenant."

"Sir."

"Take this ship into port with all the wounded. I'll meet up with you a little later—I won't be able to go as fast with the engines damaged." Jee answered in the affirmative and went to prepare for the journey. The first order of business was to fly Zuko's personal flag, a black Fire Nation crest within a white circle on a red pennant, on the captured ship to identify it. A ship flying no flags would be sunk on sight by larger battleships. "Sergeant, go with him and take Yang, Shu, Min, and Liu as well."

"Yes, sir."

Zuko walked to the edge of the deck, trying not to flex his fingers at all. The feel of dried blood cracking on his skin was something he would rather not have just then. He surveyed the damage—his little ship still billowed smoke, but the engineers had made short work of the fires, ensuring that they would not have to buy completely new engines once they made port. The dent in the hull would be relatively inexpensive to fix.

 _What am I doing?_ He thought, suddenly disgusted with himself. _Thinking about how much this is going to cost when people just got killed! When_ I _killed someone!_ He shuddered at the memory, the feel of an iron spearhead stabbing through bone and muscle. It had been easier than he'd imagined, facilitated by his adrenaline and a need for self-preservation. He hadn't deliberated over whether to kill the man, he'd just… done it. Just like that. _And Corporal Chen… my sparring partner. He's dead, too_.

"I might as well be a pirate myself," he muttered before heading back to his own ship.

* * *

The captured pirate ship was much faster and was soon out of sight, under the watchful eye of Lieutenant Jee. Zuko's ship traveled at a limping pace. The damaged engines still chugged away like champs, hour after hour, as Zuko set his bloodied arm guards to soak and washed his hands over and over again in cool, salty water.

That was only the first time. There would be others. He knew it. Pirates, earthbenders… who knew who he would kill in the future.

"I'll think about that when the time comes," he muttered under his breath. He went out onto the deck with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tipped the bucket of blood-tinged water over the side. All done. All taken care of. Ready to forget.

When he returned to his room, Uncle was there brewing tea—lapsang souchong, by the smell of it.

"How are you, Prince Zuko?" he asked after a long silence.

"Fine."

The old general nodded serenely. "Please, sit. Have a cup of tea."

Zuko couldn't think of any reason to refuse, so he sat and accepted the black lacquered teacup that Iroh offered. Neither of them said anything for a while.

"You'll tell me if you are anything less than fine," Iroh said. His tone made it a request, but the iron behind it made it an order.

"I will, Uncle."

* * *

It took three days to make it into port. The captured pirate ship was waiting at the docks alongside a small fleet of very large, intimidating warships. The streets were filled with masked soldiers—the town itself had not been occupied for long, but not a scrap of green clothing could be seen on the civilians. Such a thing would be taken as rebellion and dealt with accordingly. Zuko's ship puttered tiredly into an open spot and he and the remaining crew members descended the gangplank to set foot on land for the first time in months.

Zuko reported the pirate ship's capture at the naval office as soon as he landed. Its stores had been filled with surprisingly valuable loot—gold, weapons, spices, cloth, and all kinds of other goods traded at high risk from fat merchant ships on the high seas. Most of it was claimed in the name of the Fire Nation, but Zuko and his men each got a generous share of gold to thank them for delivering the cargo. The actual capture of the pirate ship earned them free repairs for the ship and a hefty reward to be split among the crew.

"This ship has evaded us for a _long_ time," the port's commander said to Zuko as the two of them watched money and newly purchased goods be carried into the hold. "I guess your little ship has some teeth, eh?"

"They underestimated us," Zuko said with a rare smile, recalling an unassuming white lotus tile and Lieutenant Jee's frustration at its use.

* * *

The night before their departure, the entire crew got very drunk in a tavern near the docks, raising their glasses over and over in Corporal Chen's name. And the next morning, despite his pounding head and general crankiness, Zuko remembered Lieutenant Jee's gruff assistance during the battle.

 _I gotta do something for him_ , he thought fuzzily as he dragged his feet into town a little after dawn.

Later that day, as they continued to sail north toward the Eastern Air Temple, Lieutenant Jee returned to his quarters to find a full bottle of sake next to the half-empty one Zuko had depleted when he had broken his arm.


	11. New Perspectives and the Air Temple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I took some risks with this chapter, both with speculation and execution. So, I would be eternally grateful if you gave me your honest opinion. Also contains a scene (in flashback) of domestic violence, so continue with that in mind.

The town just down the mountain from the Eastern Air Temple regarded it with fear and superstition. To them, it wasn't just unlucky—the empty temple was said to be still inhabited by malicious ghosts, the remnants of ancient airbenders that wished ill on anyone who disturbed them. They were restless in death, or so the townspeople said, and vengeful towards the Fire Nation in particular.

"They were monks," Zuko said, as if to an especially slow child, to the soldier who had looked at him like he was crazy when he asked if there was a trail up the mountain. "They didn't believe in revenge."

He thought pacifism was stupid. He also thought superstition, ghosts, and luck were stupid. All he had was what he could make for himself—thus, things he couldn't see and ideals that made no sense were very low on his list of concerns.

It turned out that the Eastern Air Temple was not quite as accessible as the Western one, which could be reached by an exhausted thirteen-year-old with a high fever. Instead of being built upside-down in a canyon, it was built across three rocky peaks up in the mountains. According to the map of the area, it would take three days along a winding, overgrown trail to reach the temple itself, and once they got there Zuko predicted that it would take at least a day or two to thoroughly search the place. After all was said and done, they'd be on their way in just over a week.

A week! Just seven days, and Zuko could be on his way home.

It was too much to hope for, but he did anyway. There was nothing else he could do but keep hoping and keep fighting.

* * *

Zuko's plan was simple. He and Iroh (Zuko had wanted to go alone, but Uncle had insisted that he was going as well) would make the trip up the mountain to the air temple. The crew would be dead weight, and besides, they all had their shares of the pirate money to spend in town. And none of them wanted to climb up a mountain only to be haunted by ghosts, no matter how much Zuko lost his temper and yelled about how stupid the notion was.

Ordinary sailors. So superstitious and gullible. He probably could have used their help in capturing the Avatar, but if they were spooked by ghost stories, they'd be no use against him. Zuko, however, did not believe in such things, and considered that a virtue on his part.

He packed lightly. He'd have to carry everything on his back, so he limited his things to filling, compact food, a skin of water, basic first-aid supplies, a few emergency flares, an oiled cloak in case of rain, his swords, and plenty of extra socks—when he was younger, Uncle had told him stories from the front, of soldiers who had lost their feet to mere blisters. The idea had terrified him and instilled in him the importance of always having extra socks, even to this day.

He left his armor in his room, wearing light clothes and soft boots for the trek up the mountain. The air was warm; summer was on its way. It wouldn't be long before the solstice, when the sun graced the world with its life-giving warmth for the longest time that year. The celebrations were almost secondary to the feeling of being alive, of being a firebender on that day. And not long after the solstice came Zuko's birthday. He was almost fifteen. In the eyes of the world, still a boy. But boys went to school and had friends. They didn't command their own ships. They didn't hike up mountains looking for the Avatar. They didn't fight pirates. Zuko was not yet a man, but he was also no longer a boy.

They started hiking at dawn. There was not a moment of daylight to waste—there had already been too many delays on their journey and Zuko would not tolerate any more. Uncle tried to point out every tree and shrub and every other growing thing on the way, but Zuko just continued walking, content to slog through the brambles and branches that obscured the path in silence. He resented every water break and every attempt to show him an animal or a rock or something equally inconsequential.

Even so, his pace slowed a little when they reached a set of very steep switchbacks. It was midday, and although the sun's light energized him, he was tired.

"It is time for a break, Prince Zuko," Uncle said. "Here are some nice rocks. Please sit, and we'll have something to eat."

Zuko sighed. He had to keep moving. He wasn't exhausted yet, and he wasn't hungry, but Iroh insisted on the grounds that it was important to stay fed and hydrated, and to not wait until one was dying of thirst to take a break. Zuko relented and sat down, leaning his pack against one of the speckled rocks that broke up the otherwise rich black earth.

They were both quiet while Uncle made tea (Zuko definitely would not have considered a tea set a hiking essential, but that was Uncle for you). The prince tapped a ship's biscuit against the rock to remove the weevils—something that had revolted him at the beginning of his journey, but that he now no longer even noticed. The air was sticky and the water in his pouch had gone all warm, so he refilled it from a clear stream just off the path.

"Come on, Uncle!" he said when he had eaten a little and downed the tea that Iroh had all but forced him to drink. "We have to keep moving!"  
"The Avatar has not been seen for—"

"A hundred years. I _know_ , Uncle. But I _have_ to keep looking."

Iroh sighed and packed up his things. Zuko started back up the path, continuing at the same stiff pace he had maintained all morning.

* * *

There was one thing that Zuko actually liked about being banished. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, and he even found himself uncomfortable once he realized that he actually found something about this ordeal to be even the smallest bit pleasant. But as the hours passed and the mountain trails took him and Uncle over all sorts of terrain, he couldn't help but acknowledge it, and the long gaps in their already sparse conversations gave him plenty of time to think.

For the first time in his life, he felt strong. Strong and healthy from the constant fresh air, exercise, and simple meals—and Uncle's wide variety of supposedly healthful teas probably didn't hurt either, even though Zuko thought that their benefits were wildly exaggerated.

Most of his early childhood memories involved being ill. He was a sickly kid, always coughing and wheezing and constantly having to rest, and allergic to just about everything found in nature and a few things that weren't. It was that way from the very beginning—he had been a small, weak baby born far too early. The first few weeks of his life were a struggle for survival.

Azula, in her worse moments, would often say that if he'd been a puppy, he would have been knocked over the head or drowned at birth. He couldn't practice his firebending for as long as she could, which made it even harder to measure up, but he always fought. Fought to live, fought to breathe when it felt like his lungs would collapse, fought to be considered a proper prince instead of some pale invalid that had to be tucked into bed and spoon-fed lukewarm soup and weak tea.

In the beginning, Ozai had cared for his son. He had always been cold and detached, favoring the boy with a stiff nod where Iroh would have clapped a warm hand to his shoulder and given him enthusiastic verbal encouragement. But he honestly wanted Zuko to succeed, to be a powerful firebending master as was his birthright. He hoped that Zuko's physical weakness was just a phase that would fade as he grew. And so, in the interest of helping him become strong, he (prompted, of course, by Ursa's gentle suggestions) took the family to Ember Island every summer, where the air was hot and humid and free of the impurities that factories on the mainland produced.

Zuko had this one memory from Ember Island that came to his mind sometimes, golden and glowing, when his thoughts got a little too dark. He stood next to his father on a rocky cliff just outside the royal family's beach house. He couldn't remember how old he was, but it was when things were still all right. Before his cousin grew up and went off to war to die. Before the light disappeared from his mother's face whenever his father was around, and before she too disappeared into the night. Ozai had put a hand on his son's shoulder, a display of affection so rare that Zuko could only remember it happening that one time, and told him to look out at the sea.

"One day, you will own the sea," he had said quietly. "You will own everything you lay eyes on. _Everything_ will be united under Fire Nation rule. And you will be at its head."

Zuko didn't understand at the time. He wasn't in the line of succession. And when he suddenly became the Crown Prince, he didn't understand _why_ , but took his father's words as a promise, which brought feelings of pain, anger, and betrayal upon his banishment, heaped upon the guilt and shame that he knew came from his own actions.

 _It was a promise. You_ promised _me._

The trips to Ember Island were a tradition—they were officially for Zuko's health, but when he did start to improve, they kept going. Maybe it worked. Zuko indeed grew stronger. By the time he was nine, he could run and jump and get dirty like any other kid, and he could last through an entire firebending lesson without a break.

But Ozai soon saw that Zuko, no longer inhibited by constant poor health, was average at best, not prodigious like Azula. That was when everything started to get worse.

He lay awake late one night, listening to the argument that carried through the wall from his parents' room, long after he should have been asleep. He'd had another relapse, a debilitating coughing fit in the middle of his firebending lesson that day that had cut it, and the rest of his schedule, short.

"How can you say that? How can you even _think_ that about him—he's your own son!"

"Is he, Ursa? Is he my son? _My_ bloodline is not weak. _My_ children are not… _pathetic and feeble_ like he is."

"First you call him a failure, and then you call me a whore. Who are you? When did you change? You weren't always this way, I remember—"

"I never changed. I have certain expectations, and if they are not fulfilled then—"

"Then what? You decide that because your firstborn isn't a prodigy, he isn't worth your attention? Let me tell you something you never bothered to learn about him. He might be a little fragile, yes, but he's clever, a good student, a good big brother to Azula and a good friend to Mai and Ty Lee. His teachers say that he's easily the best in all his classes and a natural leader of his peers, and above all, he _tries_. He tries _really hard_ , and it would make his _year_ if you would just talk to him once in a while, to say you're proud of him—"

"How can I be proud of him when he's nothing but a disappointment? No, don't talk. I don't want to hear it. He was born weak, and he got that from you. I should have—"

"If Zuko is weak then he got it from _you_! From your 'projects,' your mines and factories and spirits know what else you built that are polluting the air that _he_ has to breathe! I don't think he's weak. I think that by enduring all that he does, and on top of that going the extra mile just to get you to notice him, he's ten times stronger than you'll ever be!"

Ozai's laugh was mocking, his tone dismissive and sarcastic. "Progress, Ursa. The boy's allergic to _progress_ now? I guess I'm not surprised, given the influence you have on him… you and your, your _ancestry_ …"

"There is nothing wrong with my ancestry. I wonder about yours, though…"

" _My_ ancestry is what made our nation what it is. It's what made you a damn princess instead of some dirt-grubbing peasant preaching about _harmony,_ and _balance,_ and _peace…_ There is no room for weakness. There is no room for useless ideals. I have expectations for my children and if they _ever_ want to sit on the Fire Nation's throne—" He cut himself off that time, suddenly aware of what he had just said.

"What?" Ursa's voice was low, and Zuko would have said it sounded dangerous as well, if such a word could ever be applied to his mother. There was a long pause in which Ozai said nothing. "Is this not good enough for you? You're not satisfied with being a prince and having a family? What are you going to do… kill your brother? Kill your father?"

There was a crack—the sound of someone being slapped, hard. Ursa said nothing further and Zuko burrowed under his covers, clutching his pillow tightly to himself.

"Do _not_ , under any circumstances, speak to me that way again." Heavy footsteps crossed the floor and left the room. Ozai slammed the door behind him, leaving silence in his wake. Zuko didn't sleep that night, but lay curled up and holding on to his pillow for dear life.

The next morning, it was as if the argument had never happened. Neither of his parents acted differently towards him, Azula, or each other. But Zuko could see the red mark on his mother's face and the slight swell of her cheek beneath her carefully-applied makeup, and he noticed the tiny wince every time she smiled.

That was the first time he realized that home might not be as safe as he had always thought it was.

* * *

Zuko and Iroh stopped for the night at sunset. There was a small, grassy field just off the path, on a large, flat-topped rock formation. There were a lot of weird rock formations in that area, towering spires and squat lumps, all dripping with vegetation. There were even some clinging trees, whose roots dug deep into cracks in the stone and then continued to grow upwards like normal trees. How did they get there? Their shape brought to mind an image of a baby tree using its roots to climb up from the forest below and attach to a rock it liked, an image so absurd that Zuko had to smile.

He made the smile disappear, though, before Iroh could see it and ask what was so funny. However, Uncle didn't seem to be in a very light mood as he lit a small fire and put some water on to boil for tea.

Zuko sat down and looked in his pack for something to eat. He had an apple—a treat he'd bought in port, since fresh fruit and vegetables were too expensive and didn't keep long enough to be had at sea. He had wanted to save it for a while, but it was already starting to get bruised from being in his pack all day. He leaned back against a twisty tree near Uncle's fire and took small bites, trying to make the apple last as long as possible.

"What did you learn in school about the defeat of the Air Nomads, Prince Zuko?" Iroh asked at length. Zuko frowned. Everyone knew about that—why was Uncle asking him about it?

"Firelord Sozin sent his armies against them on the day of the Comet ninety-eight years ago," Zuko said. "Their armies fought back, but his were stronger. Those who remained left their temples and eventually disappeared completely, because they had no one to protect them with the army completely destroyed. That's pretty much it."

Iroh nodded and put on the tea to steep. Ginseng today. "Yes, I suppose that is what you would have been taught. It is a widely-known truth in the Fire Nation, but it is not entirely correct."

"What are you talking about? I learned it in school. It has to be correct, otherwise why would they teach it?"

"Because the truth is not quite so pretty. If the Fire Nation acknowledged the truth, it would… not be good for the Firelord's rule." Zuko looked up from his apple, a questioning look on his face. He was curious against his will. Iroh waited for a few minutes and then poured tea for them both. "Most of the Air Nomads' writings were destroyed on the day of the Comet," he continued. "A few things survived and have been kept hidden all these years to keep them safe. One of the most valuable things that escaped the flames is a set of journals kept by a monk named Gyatso—we don't have all of the volumes, and some of the ones that we do have are illegible. I have… associates… who have taken upon themselves the responsibility to make sure that nothing happens to these journals and the handful of other things that remain of the Air Nomads. I hope you will find yourself in a position to read them for yourself someday."

"How are some monk's journals important?"

"He lived right up until the day of the Comet, and is believed to have died in the invasion of his temple. He wrote in detail about the lives of the monks, mostly at the Southern Air Temple, but he included long portions about the other Air Temples as well. As far as we can tell from what he wrote, the Air Nomads had no formal military at all. They had no army to defend them, and were no match for the sheer number of firebenders that attacked them."

The bite of apple that Zuko had been thoughtfully chewing lost all its flavor. "That's not true," he protested.

"There is no mention of an army anywhere in his journal," Iroh said. He had set his tea down next to him, undrunk. "The Air Nomads were completely pacifistic. They believed in self-defense and would use violence to protect themselves and others, but they believed in the sanctity of all life. That much is clear. Gyatso wrote much about his vegetarianism, his sky bison, and the progress of his garden—he had a pupil, whose name he did not disclose, who readily accepted this way of life despite his young age. Such acceptance was important for every airbender… do you know why?"

"No."

"According to Gyatso, airbending is the cruelest of all the bending arts. It was theoretically possible for an airbender to remove the air from an opponent's lungs and prevent them from breathing. There was no known counter to this, not even by other airbenders. Imagine…" Iroh trailed off, leaving Zuko to imagine the air being drawn from his lungs, killing him without the mess of a firebender or an earthbender. It would be silent, inescapable… at least with other kinds of bending, there was a way to avoid being killed. Blocks, shields. But to be completely powerless against…

He shuddered.

"They had no military. No one who would be trained to kill, who might use such a technique. Airbenders generally used their powers to fly, to create light and fluffy cakes, and to move items without touching them. They were a gentle people, as a rule, quick to forgive and easy to amuse." It was only then that Zuko noticed the sorrowful tone to his uncle's voice, the shadow that darkened his face. "On the day of the Comet, the Fire Nation attacked the air temples directly, not the armies that supposedly guarded them. They killed everyone… every man, woman, and child."

A chill settled into Zuko's stomach.

"That's not true," he said, his throat tight. It wasn't true. He had been taught the truth his whole life. It was in all the books, every scholar knew it, and every child could tell you when and how Firelord Sozin defeated the Air Nation armies. But Uncle never lied. He never told Zuko anything unless it was the absolute truth. There had to be a mistake in these so-called journals. Something that was part of the lost volumes, something that would confirm the stories that Zuko had always accepted as the truth—

Unless that's all they were, stories.

"I am only telling you these things because I believe you are ready, and because I believe you should know."

"I want to read these so-called journals for myself."

Uncle stroked his beard. "…Very well. It may be a little while, though, before I can get them for you. My associates are a bit shy."

Zuko looked down at the half-eaten apple in his hand. His appetite was completely gone. It had seemed so sweet and delicious before, but now… the images wouldn't leave his mind, both of an airbender sucking the breath from his body, and of an army of firebenders setting temples full of peaceful monks ablaze. With a sigh, he threw the remnants of the fruit to one side. Hopefully some small animal would get more enjoyment from it than he did.

He didn't suffer the usual nightmare that night, the vivid flashback that began with a silk cloth sliding off his shoulders and ended with a flaming hand pressed to his face. No, that night he had a completely new nightmare.

* * *

The next day and a half of hiking were, in contrast to the first day, filled with conversation. They talked about nothing in particular—the trail, the flora and fauna, the route they would take once they left the Eastern Air Temple, tea, what they thought the crew was doing back in town, firebending… anything. Hiking gave Zuko too much time to think about what Iroh had told him about the airbenders, so he filled it with meaningless conversation. Iroh, on the other hand, was just happy to talk with him about even the most trivial of subjects.

The initial shock and revulsion had faded away by the time they reached the temple itself, pressed down into a dark corner of Zuko's mind where he could keep it until he decided what to do with it. The uncertainty remained, however, but it was quickly burned away by thoughts of the Avatar. The Avatar, in Zuko's mind, was not one of the peaceful monks described to him by Uncle. He was a prize, a goal, nothing but his way home.

The Eastern Air Temple was just as eerie and silent as the one in the west. Despite the reports Zuko had heard about someone living there, the place seemed lifeless—if anyone had been here, they obviously had left long before his arrival. Probably while they were still stuck in that stupid ice.

He looked around at the statues and paintings. He had not been in the mood to look at such things at the Western Air Temple, but now found himself awed by the ancient carvings, now overgrown with moss and vines and crawling with insects and the little monkeys that ate them. The images were all of women—nuns had lived here, not monks. Zuko had never really thought about female airbenders before, even though he knew they existed.

"Maybe the Avatar is a girl," he said aloud to break up the creepy silence that was starting to press down on him. "Avatar Roku was a man, after all." He looked up at a statue of a meditating nun. "But the sages tell us that the new Avatar is also male. Not that it matters, in any case. All that matters is that I find him."

And he would keep looking, he vowed, even as they pronounced the temple deserted and started to make their way back down the mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we didn't really see enough of Ursa to know what was up with her, but I kind of see her as the one person who would stand up to Ozai and therefore the one person who would be the biggest obstacle for his plans. So he knew he'd have to get rid of her eventually. He just decided to get rid of her and Azulon at the same time. Two birds, one stone. And due to her being descended from Avatar Roku, I feel like she would have had some respect for the other nations, despite wanting the Fire Nation to win the war.


	12. Animals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the song here is a real song (it's called "The Mermaid," and the original lyric is "landlubbers"). No, it is not even remotely Asian.

When Zuko had first tried to travel to the Northern Air Temple, he had been too feverish to think rationally and might have driven himself to his grave had Iroh not intervened. While he was in bed recovering, Iroh had changed their course and gone south again, something that had provoked a long, furious rage from the prince once he realized what had happened.

He was over it now. They were on their way to the Northern Air Temple now and making good time. No ice, no pirates, and no Zhao so far, and decent if rainy weather all along the eastern coast of the Earth Kingdom. They had seen a few Fire Nation ships, all of whom proved to be friendly and willing to exchange news. They had also seen a few Earth Kingdom ships, which they had given a wide berth. No confrontations, no mechanical meltdowns in the engine room, nothing.

Zuko refused to verbally acknowledge this streak of good fortune. It would only make something bad happen.

He sat with the map spread out in front of him on the table. Their travels so far were penciled in with charcoal—they started at the Fire Nation capital and went immediately due north to the Western Air Temple. The line then headed northeast a little before turning sharply south and continuing in that direction, hugging the Earth Kingdom coast, before breaking off and stopping on Whale Tail Island. They had then gone south, near the Water Tribe territory, and had gotten stuck on one of the islands. Zuko had made a note there—"frozen in ice for five months." After the spring thaw, they wove in and out of the southern archipelago, started north towards the Eastern Air Temple, and from there continued along the coast in a smooth, unbroken line.

Where would they go after the Northern Air Temple? Maybe down the huge river that cut through the Earth Kingdom continent. Most of the territory on the western bank was controlled by the Fire Nation. He had never navigated a river before, so he might learn something. He felt he'd gotten better at navigating on the open sea, so maybe they would explore some of the tiny, uncharted islands further out in the ocean. Or maybe they'd head south again and try to find the Southern Air Temple. It was the most hidden of all of them—according to Uncle, it had been the last air temple attacked on the day of the comet, simply because Sozin's armies couldn't find it, tucked deep into the mountains and almost inaccessible by land.

That fact alone led Zuko to believe that it was the hiding place of the Avatar.

A soft scratching sound brought him out of his thoughts. He looked up, squinting and trying to make his left eye focus. The corners of his room were dark, but something cast a scurrying shadow across the metal walls.

"It's not getting away this time," he muttered. As quietly he could, he drew his belt knife and fixed his gaze on the scrap of stinking, rotten salt pork in the middle of the floor. Three days it now the rat had been scuttling around in the vents and scratching somewhere in the ceiling… three restless nights punctuated by thoughts and dreams of the little devil gnawing on his feet while he slept. And he was tired of it.

"You have a vivid imagination, my nephew," Uncle had said with a knowing grin, clearly aware of the contents of Zuko's newest nightmare. Zuko had to agree, although part of him was about two seconds from stopping the crew's grog until they had gotten over the urge to tell him any more gruesome tales.

He waited, breathing shallowly and holding the knife as Mai had showed him, back when they were children. "It's all in the wrist," she had said. "Patience. Anger and frustration only make it harder to aim." And then she had sent a knife straight through an apple on the big tree in the garden.

The rat ventured out from the shadows. Its nose quivered from the smell of spoiled meat. Its little naked feet pattered across the floor until it reached the morsel. It sat up on its haunches and surveyed the prize with beady eyes and twitching whiskers, as if congratulating itself on this excellent find.

 _It's all in the wrist._

Zuko took a breath and threw the knife. It pierced the rat through the neck, killing it instantly.

"HA! I finally got you!" He leaped up and went to pick up the still-warm varmint by its tail. "Who's laughing now!"

The rat didn't respond.

Zuko, feeling a little foolish for gloating at a dead rat, went immediately in the direction of the galley with the unfortunate rodent still dangling by its tail.

The concept of voluntarily eating rats was something that, like the shipboard reality of weevil-infested bread, had revolted Zuko at the beginning of his voyage. Such a thing simply wasn't done in the Fire Nation, but it turned out that rats were a staple in some of the colonies. To the people there, rats were really no different from pig-chickens, which was probably because they also ate various varieties of possum and squirrel with similar gusto.

Zuko had refused to even try rat meat, saying that it was only fit for backwoods colony trash and not for a Fire Nation prince. But Uncle had casually presented him with some kind of spicy, tasty fried meat wrapped in paper when they had recently stopped at a colonial port, and didn't tell him what it was until he had finished the whole thing and started looking for a place to get more.

From that day on, Zuko never said anything else against rat meat.

 _What Azula would say if she knew that I've eaten rat and found it pretty good_ , he thought, shaking his head slightly.

In the steamy, spicy-smelling galley, Zuko presented his kill to the cook. Brined in salt water, thoroughly seasoned, and fried, it would be indistinguishable from komodo chicken. On second thought, maybe that's what komodo chicken actually was.

"Hm. Good. Nice fat legs. Good sized," Yuu muttered, taking it and tossing it into a large metal bowl full of dead rats. Above the bowl was a slate with various crew members' names and a running tally. So far, the helmsman was in the lead with seven kills in the past week. "Chubby little bastard. Probably from getting into the stores. If I find one more rat in the flour, I might jump overboard."

 _An infestation? That's not good_. People got sick from rats scurrying all over the place, and Zuko would rather have his crew actually working instead of chasing after vermin in pursuit of the title of The Ship's Best Rat-Catcher. And he would rather that Yuu didn't jump overboard from too many rats in the stores. He'd have to do something about the problem.

A cat was the obvious solution. Every proper Fire Navy ship was supplied with at least one—coincidentally, a cat was one of the important things that Zuko's ship did _not_ have, along with a quartermaster, a doctor, and at least a half dozen other personnel. As he walked up to the bridge, Zuko added "cat" to his mental list of "things to think about before we make port again."

The sounds of strumming and someone singing a lively drinking song made him stop in his tracks. Ugh, music night. He'd forgotten.

 _Oh the ocean waves do roll_

 _And the stormy winds do blow_

 _Aye, and we poor sailors are skipping at the top_

 _And the earthbenders lie down below, below, below_

 _And the earthbenders lie down below!_

The thought of spending every day of the rest of his life on this ship, with music night happening once a week without fail, and that one singer _never_ figuring out how to sing in the right key even as the years rolled on forever and ever, was enough to make Zuko go insane.

He went back to his room, retrieved his swords, and went down into the cargo hold to practice. The song remained stuck in his head throughout the evening.

* * *

It was still raining when they made port the next day. Zuko hadn't wanted to stop, since they were making such good time, but he knew that if he denied his men news, gossip, and dockside debauchery for very long, he would have to deal with their surly attitudes. That was the thing about being in charge of a ship. He had to maintain discipline, yet not make his men hate him. It was difficult—the next youngest crew member was seventeen years older than him, and he probably looked as stupid as he felt when he had to reprimand men who had been sailing since before he was born. It was just easier to make port and not have to worry about looking stupid later.

In a particularly timely stroke of luck, they happened upon an old, decommissioned battleship being cannibalized in port. All of its men, supplies, and equipment were being distributed to other ships, and even the vessel itself was being dismantled in order to make new ships out of the parts. From the skeleton Zuko and his crew managed to scavenge a few new tools, four crocks of kimchee, an extensive medical kit, two Fire Navy standard-issue guan dao, and one very foul-tempered, long-haired tabby cat.

She had yellow eyes, a mane almost like a lion-wolf's, and scars all about her face and neck. She savaged several of the men who tried to handle her on the way back to the ship, yowling and hissing the entire time. Eventually, Sergeant Shogo grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and flung her into the cargo hold to begin her rat-hunting duties. On that count, at least, the other ship's men had singularly praised her abilities.

Barely an hour had passed since acquiring the cat that the crew unanimously, but without prior discussion, started calling her Tetsu, after Lieutenant Jee's ex-wife. She had left him a few years back when he was demoted and informed him of the divorce in a letter. She was not popular with the crew, to say the least.

"Prince Zuko, you may want to consider additional purchases for the trip to the Northern Air Temple," Iroh said serenely once the cat was taken care of. He offered a handkerchief to Zuko, who pressed it to a couple of bleeding bite marks in his right hand.

"Like what?" Zuko said through gritted teeth, struggling not to incinerate something in frustration. Stupid cat...

"The terrain is considerably more rugged than that of the Western and Eastern Air Temples. I suggest a few komodo rhinos. They will be useful if you decide to make trips further inland, as well."

Zuko did a quick mental calculation. Buying and caring for any number of komodo rhinos was not part of his budget. He figured it would work out fine if they managed to catch more pirates before long. According to Lieutenant Jee, most pirates in this area sailed in wooden Earth Kingdom junks, not steel Fire Nation battleships, and were therefore easier to sink. Yes, that was a viable option.

"All right. Let's go find some rhinos."

They set off to the military stables with Hong, the usually silent captain of the guard, who was a komodo rhino expert. Zuko was still holding the handkerchief to his war wounds.

The stable was low, dark, and smelled of rained-on animals. Mostly rhinos, but a few ostrich horses, mongoose dragons, and even a giant eel-hound peered out from their stalls when the three men entered. The stable master showed them the rhinos. Captain Hong looked over them and nodded to himself. One stall held a female with a baby, so small that its horns had not yet started to grow in. But the stable master threw a bloody side of meat into the stall, and the little rhino attacked it with a mouth full of surprisingly impressive teeth.

"The little'un's not broken yet," said the man, wiping his hands on his stained tunic, "so I'll sell 'im for a lower price. Won't sell 'im without his mama, though." Zuko, Iroh, and Hong nodded. Zuko looked to the soldier. Very carefully, Hong checked the mother rhino's teeth and eyes and did a quick inspection of her clawed feet.

"She's a good one," he said.

Zuko nodded and crouched down for a closer look at the baby rhino. It sniffed at his clothes, probably smelling the bloody handkerchief around his fingers.

"These two are also good, sir," Hong said from a few stalls to the right. Zuko looked up and promptly felt a cutting, unrelenting pain in the back of his left arm.

"Ow! Get—off—" He tried to pry the baby rhino's teeth from his arm, to no avail. "A little help here!" He squeezed his eyes shut—who would have thought such a small and harmless-looking thing could be so _vicious_?

Eventually, Uncle and the stable master managed to detach the baby rhino's teeth from his arm, which was now dripping blood. Uncle wordlessly offered him another handkerchief.

"Why does everything keep biting me!"

"Perhaps you taste good, my nephew."

"Ugh."

They ended up buying the four rhinos, including the man-eating baby one, along with three sets of tack. According to Captain Hong, komodo rhinos needed red meat only once a month, and could eat preserved fish or even straw on every other day. They were hardy creatures that lived well at sea, which was why the Fire Nation put them on ships, despite their apparent dietary preference for fourteen-year-old boys.

It was nighttime by the time the rhinos were settled in the hold of the ship and everything else had been taken care of, and Zuko was tired and in a very black mood. His arm and hand were bandaged, and by now he wouldn't have been surprised if the tale of rats gnawing on sleeping people was actually true, and not something told to inexperienced sailors as a prank. He'd certainly been bitten by everything else.

He trudged up to his room, looking forward to a good night's sleep.

Tetsu was sitting on his bed, cleaning her paws and giving him the occasional murderous look.

"Out, cat," he growled. She ignored him. "Out! Go!" Gingerly, he tried to prod her off with a carefully-extended finger, but she flattened her ears and hissed, making him snatch his hand back before she could mutilate it. Instead, he took his sword sheath from where it hung on the wall beneath the crossed blades and poked her with it, but she ignored him until he poked harder. At this she growled—growled! Like some kind of wild animal and not a common cat!

Zuko's attempt to uproot her by snatching the blanket out from under her was similarly foiled, and he got a clawed swipe across the knuckles for his trouble. He wanted to firebend at her. He really did. Maybe that would make her leave. But he couldn't firebend at a _cat_ , no matter how violent and demonic.

Eventually he took his pillow and his polar leopard fur and drifted off to an uncomfortable sleep on the floor. Somewhere above him, he could hear Tetsu purring.


	13. The Journal of Monk Gyatso

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More speculation warnings here, nothing too drastic, just fairly common stuff like "was Ursa a firebender?" and Order of the White Lotus speculation. And the names of the rhinos are more "lazy writer cop-out" than me actually trying to be funny.

The cold and rain continued as the ship traveled further north. Fog shrouded the ship in a heavy blanket that muffled the sounds of the waves and creaking steel.

Zuko sighed, rubbed his eyes, and let the telescope hang down in its fixture. It was no use. He couldn't see anything through it, with the torrential rain and fog that clouded the glass and made him even more half-blind than he already was. No land, no other ships... they had to find somewhere to dock soon. If they didn't, they took the risk of running aground or being accidentally smashed by a larger ship. The fog lamp was lit... hopefully that would be enough to alert others to their presence until they could get somewhere safe.

He tugged his hood closer around his face and shivered. He'd been colder than this before, last winter. But that was a clean, bright cold, when the sun shone during the day and the moon took its turn at night. But now... the only thing that let him know that the day had changed was that the clouds seemed a little lighter than before. This was no place for a firebender.

It was almost midsummer. No midsummer should ever look like this.

There were some days when Zuko missed the Fire Nation more than others. This was one of them. Most of the time, he could take his mind off it by just going through his everyday routine and focusing on the things that needed to be taken care of right away. It was only when he had downtime that he acutely felt the loss of his homeland. But today... today, his exile weighed on him more with each raindrop that soaked him to the skin despite his heavy cloak.

He missed the constant sunshine, the heat and humidity so intense that he couldn't imagine what "cold" was until he took a long drink of something fruity and choked with ice out of a glass that dripped condensation. He missed lying on the beach in nothing but shorts, one arm thrown over his eyes, dozing off under hazy golden light and _knowing_ that he was going to be as pink as raspberry ice cream in a few hours, but not caring in the slightest. And even in the stifling weather, firebending, letting waves of heat wash over him. He lived for it. When the typhoons came at the end of summer, even the rain was warm, and steam rose from everything in heavy clouds when the sun showed its face again.

Celebrations of the summer solstice. The blooming of the fire lilies. His birthday. Fire flakes and more ripe, juicy fruit than he could shake a stick at. And Mai, cool and warm at the same time, and present in all of his favorite memories.

He shook his head. Just stupid daydreams. He wasn't in the Fire Nation and constantly thinking about it would only make it worse.

Uncle offered him some spiced tea when he came in to the bridge, damp and irritable. Zuko had long since started, upon entering a room, counting down how long it took for Uncle to offer tea. The record was two seconds. He had also started keeping a mental tally of which kinds of tea were most often consumed—jasmine was in the lead. He liked doing things like that—counting, making lists, calculating... things that he had done well in school, but never found particularly _fun_. It kept him occupied, at the very least.

"There is a small port about a day's journey from here," Iroh said from the pai sho table, where he was handily defeating three crew members, as usual. "I have a contact that I am meeting there in three days' time."

"Unless it's about the Avatar, we can't stop. We're almost to the Northern Air Temple."

"It's not about the Avatar, but it is about the conversation we had back at the Eastern Air Temple, Prince Zuko."

 _Oh_. _That monk's journals_. He'd forgotten. He was torn between anticipation and fear—fear of what he might read, words that would confirm what Uncle had said about the Air Nomads being completely pacifistic. Fear that the nagging guilt he felt whenever he thought about it would take over, completely destroying everything he knew to be true and, most importantly, hindering his search for the Avatar.

"All right," he said after a brief moment of struggle. "We'll stop there." _Uncle said that the journal is incomplete. He said that some parts are either missing or illegible._ That's _where the information about the military is. And besides, the idea of a pacifistic race is stupid. It doesn't make sense. They were weak, that's all. We were stronger._

Iroh nodded, smiled, and placed a tile. Lieutenant Jee groaned and clapped a hand to his forehead when he saw what had happened.

"Eleventh game... _in a row_."

"Yes, but that time you gave me a fair fight," Iroh replied in a conciliatory tone. "You're improving!"

* * *

The weather had improved some by the time they arrived at Iroh's designated port. With no supplies to buy and no repairs to be made, this stop became simply a few days for the crew to cram in as much hedonism as they could while Iroh waited for his "contact." Zuko preferred to stay on the ship and read, practice, meditate, or map out where they would go after the Northern Air Temple. There was nothing for him on the shore. He didn't see drinking as a form of entertainment, and as for the _other_ form of entertainment the men tended to pursue in port... he wasn't interested. Nope. Absolutely not. It was a ridiculous notion, that he might actually want—

There was a knock at the door. Uncle—everyone else knew not to bother him in his room. Zuko looked up from the map, which had started to look like nothing more than a jumble of lines and illegible characters, he had been staring at it for so long, his eyes only half-focused.

"Come in."

Uncle poked his head in. "It stopped raining," he said. "Why don't you join me for a walk?"

"I'll pass."

"What are you doing in here that is so important you can't take a break?"

"I'm planning what our course is going to be after this."

"Zuko, we will be here for a few days. You will have plenty of time to do that once it starts raining again. You need some fresh air!"

"Uncle, I live on a boat. I have no shortage of fresh air."

Uncle sighed and shut the door.

When Zuko was certain he was gone, he took his swords below for some practice. He was getting pretty good, or so he thought—he hadn't had the opportunity to test them in actual combat yet. Uncle had a single scroll on dual swordsmanship, which he studied religiously, but it wasn't enough to read and practice alone.

With the rhinos now housed in the hold, he had an audience whenever he practiced. They munched their feed, snorted, and watched him with beady, interested eyes, which always made him feel a little self-conscious, as if they were appraising his skill.

"Nonsense," he muttered to himself, drawing his swords and assuming a fighting stance. "They're just rhinos."

The female—Sweetness—snorted when he said this, as if she understood. The rhinos, unlike Tetsu, were not given their names by the crew. Zuko was of the opinion that their names sounded like something a sarcastic twelve-year-old might label an animal—Sweetness, Twinkle Toes, Snoozles, and the baby, Sparky.

He had to admit, though, the names fit, in a weird way.

* * *

The sun had started to emerge a little on the agreed-upon day for the meeting. Iroh, humming, left the ship with his hands tucked into his sleeves, making his way up from the docks to the more respectable parts of town. Through the bustling marketplace (where he kept having to stop to admire some goods or to offer compliments to pretty women), up past the government offices and a few assorted shrines, to a quaint tea shop on the corner of the street.

The pai sho table in the corner was empty—good. He sat and ordered oolong tea from the cute waitress while he waited.

It was hours before his associate arrived. That was all right—Iroh was perfectly content to sip tea and make the waitress giggle for as long as it took. He would not have traded anything for the experience of traveling with Zuko, but sometimes it got a bit tiring, always dashing off from place to place and seldom staying in port for more than a day or two at a time. That boy needed to learn to enjoy the simpler things in life—a hot cup of tea, a game of pai sho, and the smile of a pretty girl. Especially that last one.

Just as he had finished his third cup, a tall, cloaked figure came in and crossed the room to where he sat, walking with the self-assured grace of a true waterbending master.

"May I have this game?" he said in a formal, well-educated voice as he took a seat.

"There is no need to stand on ceremony, Master Pakku," Iroh replied with a smile. "We know each other, do we not?"

"Yes... of course."

The Water Tribesman pushed his hood back and looked around the tea shop, an eyebrow raised and a small sneer creasing one corner of his nose. He famously looked down on any part of the world that was not the Northern Water Tribe—for that reason alone, Iroh was of the opinion that he was a Fire National in a past life. He waved the waitress away when she came to take his tea order and then looked across the table over steepled fingers.

"So," Pakku said after a moment. "Your nephew wants to read the journals."

"Not so fast, friend! It's been years, hasn't it? Have a cup of tea, maybe some dumplings." Iroh took a sip of his newly-refilled cup. "How are things at home? Does the solstice find the Tribe in prosperity and good health?"

"Yes, all is well. The Princess grows in wisdom and beauty with each passing year... we are able to make decent trade with Omashu without excessive interference from the Fire Nation... my young men continue to progress in their training..." Pakku trailed off with a wave of his hand.

"Ah, Pakku. I think you will find, if you choose to give them a chance, that the average girl has just as much potential in bending as the average boy," said Iroh. "Our own Princess—"

"You told me yourself that she was inordinately cruel, even as a child," Pakku cut him off. "We do not foster such characteristics in our women, much less throw them at the front lines as if they were the same as men." At this, Iroh smiled to himself, wishing that he could introduce the old sourfish to the former Princess Ursa—no doubt even he would consider her a proper lady, and a talented bender at that. "But I did not come here to discuss how I should pass down _our_ traditions to the youth of _my_ tribe," Pakku continued. "The journal. I do not take my stewardship of the first three volumes lightly. In this I honor the memory of our former Grand Master, may the Moon and Ocean keep him."

"As is only proper," Iroh agreed.

"Does your nephew show any potential as an initiate?"

At this, Iroh hesitated. He wished he could definitively say that one day he would give Zuko a white lotus tile of his own, but nothing was ever certain with him. Nothing but his temper, impulsiveness, and obsession. "There are many paths before him," he said at last, a tad slowly. "He is confused. He has been hurt, and for now, his search for the Avatar is what holds him together. I am doing my best for him, even so... there is no telling what his destiny will be. He is only fourteen. He still has a long time to figure out who he is and what he will do with his life."

"I see you've been talking to Wu again."

"Sadly, I haven't seen her in many years. Someday, though." Iroh grinned at the thought. "I was very pleased with my nephew, though, as it was his own decision to read the journals for himself. I told him a little about the Air Nomads when we visited the Eastern Air Temple, and about the journals' existence. Truthfully, I was surprised. I didn't expect him to be so enthusiastic about it."

Pakku's face was impossible to read. Iroh hoped he wouldn't say no. The rest of the journals were kept in a vault in Omashu, and while King Bumi was much friendlier towards Iroh (and humanity in general) than Pakku was, Iroh seriously doubted that Zuko had the patience or skill to complete the "challenges" put in place to protect them.

"You have said that he has a temper befitting his element."

"That he does."

"Does he also have a sense of undying nationalism?"

"As with many Fire Nation youth... yes, unfortunately." Iroh smiled to himself a little. "It is cracking, though. I like to put ideas in his mind that find loose strings and start to unravel the tapestry of propaganda that is really all he knew for most of his life. It's not easy... he is the sort of person to cling to his own ideals long after they have been disproved, but I'm getting to him. Little by little."

Pakku closed his eyes. His brow furrowed in thought. "Very well," he said after a few moments. From within his cloak he drew three scroll cases, carved in polar elephant ivory and set them on the table. "I hope I'm not making a mistake. If harm ever comes to these scrolls..."

"He would not. He respects the written word."

"Good." For the first time since arriving, a small smile twitched in the corner of Pakku's mouth. "I hope I live to see these journals copied, and made available to anyone who wants to read them."

"My sins and those of my brother and forefathers have made that impossible in our day." Iroh raised his head. "But hopefully not impossible in the days of my nephew, or my grand-nephews and nieces." He ran a hand over one of the scroll cases. "Isn't that why we're here at this time? To appreciate beauty wherever it is found, and to make the world safe for knowledge to be freely exchanged?"

Pakku gave a slow nod. "I want them back at midday, two days from now. Already they have been outside our vaults for too long."

"Of course."

* * *

Iroh presented the three scroll cases to Zuko after dinner that evening, once the dishes had been cleared away.

"These are the first three volumes of Monk Gyatso's journal," he said. "Of course, there is no way to tell if these are the _first_ three volumes, but these are, in chronological order, the first three that have survived."

"These are Water Tribe," Zuko said, tracing a finger over the carved ivory. He recognized the symbols from his reading—moon and ocean motifs, images of seals, fish, and other creatures that inhabited the frozen wastelands of the poles.

"Yes, my associate has a great appreciation for such things," Iroh replied. "He needs to have them back in two days. It is entirely possible to finish reading in that amount of time—our monk is a very engaging storyteller."

Zuko nodded and lifted the lid on the first case. The parchment inside was old and a bit cracked, but it had held up well. One end of the scroll was slightly scorched, just on the edge of the paper. Very carefully, Zuko took the scroll out and unrolled it in front of him on the table.

 _...Weather has finally started to warm up. To think that spring has been here for three months already, but this was the first morning without frost! I predict that my sky-eggplants will be very bountiful this year, with the longer cold season. That's especially good, as my young pupil loves eggplants in curry. I'm sure Sati will also appreciate this good fortune, even if her teeth have been a little sensitive lately. We are both getting on in years, alas... there is still so much that I must teach my pupil; sometimes I fear that I have been neglecting my duties as his mentor. In any case, I feel that I have successfully taught him the fine art of launching cakes at the other elders, ha! At least I am not getting boring in my old age, if I do say so myself._

Sometime after Zuko started reading, Iroh had left the room. Zuko hadn't noticed until he was finished with the first entry and looked up to notice that he was gone. With a slight shrug, he turned back to the scroll.

 _Sati is in better spirits today than she was yesterday. Perhaps it's the warmer weather—her joints must not be bothering her so much now. She even led the little calves in a short flight around the high tower! I suppose she must miss her own calves, now that they are all grown and dispersed to the various temples._

Oh, so Sati was a sky bison. Zuko hadn't picked that up from the first entry. He thought she was Gyatso's wife.

 _My pupil's own bison has taken a particular liking to moon-peaches, and spent a few moments sniffing around all the temple's peach trees, looking for a treat. Sadly, he will have to wait a while for them to be in season—last winter, he ate nearly all the peaches off the tree in the courtyard, including the pits!_

 _Speaking of my pupil, I am proud to announce that he is almost ready for his tattoos. He will demonstrate his mastery of our art to the elders next week, including the new technique he invented. I have never seen a master so young. Not even my dear old friend mastered firebending that quickly, and he was a true proficient._

Zuko hoped that this "dear old friend" would be named later in the journal.

 _My pupil actually giggled during his tattooing session today!_ Began an entry a few weeks later. _He even said that it tickled! How he can laugh, I can't comprehend. Spirits know I cried like a baby during mine, and I was nearly seventeen. He didn't cry at all during the first two sessions, even so, I could tell it was painful for him. He still has five sessions left to go, and then he will be fully recognized as a master airbender. None of his peers are even close to his level of proficiency—at the risk of sounding like a snob, I must say that I have taught him well._

Gyatso's pupil was sounding a little too much like Azula for Zuko's comfort. Well, at least there were no entries (so far) on him tormenting the other children or throwing rocks at turtle-ducks, so there was at least that difference between them.

Zuko couldn't stop reading, even though the subjects of the entries were really quite boring. True to what Iroh had said back at the Eastern Air Temple, Gyatso liked to write about his garden and all the supposedly tasty vegetarian meals that its fruits contributed to. Some of the descriptions sounded delicious even to Zuko, who thought that vegetarianism, like many other things, was stupid and namby-pamby. Personally, he was more of a meat person than a vegetable person.

He continued reading long into the night, until he finished the first scroll. Story after story about gardening, sky bison, lemurs, airbending, throwing cakes at "boring" old monks, pride in his pupil's accomplishments, pai sho, meditation... nothing about a military. Nothing at all.

Zuko wasn't sure he wanted to read the other two volumes. Not because he wasn't enjoying the journal, but because he was afraid that they would continue in the same vein as this one. No mentions of an army, but nothing that explicitly said that they had none—only story after story, letting Zuko continue to wonder whether or not what Uncle had said was the truth. Stories that painted a picture of yellow-robed monks living peaceful lives in a beautiful temple hanging with wisteria, eating vegetarian curry with sky-eggplants (whatever those were) and caring for bison and lemurs. Stories of novices looking forward to getting their tattoos, which made Zuko glad that a firebender's rite of passage only consisted of meditation and rituals honoring the sun. Games played by children, eclipse-viewing parties held by adults, and over all, a sense of community and gentleness.

"They were weak," Zuko told himself in a whisper.

He slept badly that night. When he woke up, the first thing he did was reach for the next scroll.

* * *

When Zuko finished the three volumes, he was oddly quiet for a day or so, but returned to his usual self after that. He expressed a need for haste on the way to the Northern Air Temple, where the Avatar was surely hiding. He would not rest until he captured him, he said.

Iroh sighed. _Finding the Avatar will not bring you honor, my nephew_.

He returned the scrolls to Pakku at the designated hour, and expressed gratitude on Zuko's behalf.

"I think... there will be a day when he finally sees the world through an uncolored lens," Iroh said to the waterbending master. "I don't know when, but it will happen."

 _It just isn't today._


	14. Not As Planned

The clouds dissipated, the sun returned its life-giving light to the world, the solstice came and went with all the attendant celebration, and Zuko turned fifteen a few days before the ship reached its destination at the foot of the Northern mountain range.

Iroh, as he had done the year previously, presented Zuko with a gift in a casual manner over dinner (komodo chicken again), in a way that did not openly defy Zuko's continued insistence that no attention should be paid to his birthday. Birthday parties were for babies, he said. The set of scrolls on dual swordsmanship, though, were not gifts for a baby, and Zuko secretly couldn't wait to start reading them.

But first, there was something much more important to attend to: the inspection of the Northern Air Temple.

It was pretty far inland, and true to what Iroh had said, the terrain was much more difficult than the other two temples that he had visited. He would need to pack a substantial amount of provisions for the trip, but luckily the rhinos would make everything easier, from carrying things to traversing the rugged mountain paths. There were two passes marked on the map that they could take to the temple. One of them, according to the locals, had been obstructed by a massive landslide a few years back, so Zuko crossed it off the map and made a note. He began making preparations for the trip immediately.

As before, Uncle would go with him while the men amused themselves in town. This port was slightly bigger than the ones they had seen in recent memory—before the war, it had profited greatly from trading with the Northern Water Tribe, and since then the Fire Nation colonization had brought civilization and technology. It was one of the older colonial ports, almost sixty years old. True, it had suffered a little from the loss of trade with the Northern barbarians, but maybe it was for the best. The emphasis had shifted from trade to warship support, and while the docks were crawling with all sorts of depravity, there weren't many places that did ship maintenance so well for such a good price.

They planned to stay in port for no fewer than ten days—five to get to the temple, and five to get back. Zuko figured that would be enough drinking and whoring for the crew for a while, and that the next leg of the voyage would be free from such interruptions for a few months at least.

* * *

"All right, Twinkle Toes," Zuko said to his laden rhino. "Time to stretch your legs." He offered the beast a chunk of raw meat that had gone slightly off in the hot sun and was careful to keep his fingers out of the way of the sharp, gnashing teeth. If a baby rhino could give him what would eventually be a permanent scar, he didn't want to think about what an adult rhino could do to his bare hands.

He mounted up and directed Twinkle Toes down the gangplank, across the docks, and eventually onto dry land, where he sat, fingers drumming impatiently on his knee while he waited for Iroh to catch up. After much too long, the old general came into view on Snoozles. He had what looked like way too much stuff in the saddlebags and rolled up behind the saddle—there was a difference between having enough stuff for ten days and having too much, something that he apparently couldn't grasp.

"Let's go. We've wasted enough time already." Zuko was starting to feel twitchy, as he always did when he thought he had a lead. It was like this back at the Eastern Air Temple, too—no distractions, no detours... he would not tolerate any of it.

The road out of town led straight to the pass through the mountains. They took a left at a fork, a route which took them directly up into the craggy hills that would soon give way to towering mountains. There was an arch over the road, and two armed soldiers were posted in front of it.

They crossed their weapons in front of Zuko as he tried to pass them.

"What's the meaning of this?" he demanded, tightening his grip on the reins.

"This road is closed unless you have proper clearance," said the soldier to his right. "There's a form. It has to be approved through the Office of Strategic Interests."

"I'm the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation. I don't need a form." His heartbeat was sounding faster and louder in his ears—he could reduce this stupid commoner foot soldier to ash, and it wouldn't even be hard—

"I'm sorry, sir, it's just my orders."

Zuko was just about to tell him to shove his orders somewhere uncomfortable when Iroh steered his own rhino up next to him. "Of course we will visit the Office of Strategic Interests," he said to the soldier. "We weren't aware of the rule. Let's head back into town, Prince Zuko."

"Uncle..." But try as he might, he couldn't think of anything to say. He would gain nothing by protesting or simply pushing the soldier into a bramble thicket. "Fine."

He smoldered with suppressed anger all the way back to town. The Office of Strategic Interests... ugh. Despite the name, it wasn't even a military organization. It was a festering stew of bureaucracy and incompetent lackeys. Best to just get this over with as quickly as they could.

The Office was situated in a building a couple of miles uphill from the docks, a boxy, utilitarian building that inspired boredom and despair just from the look of it. Outside, Iroh paid a boy loitering nearby a copper coin to look after the rhinos with the promise of two more upon their return. Once they entered the building, an underling told them to wait for just a moment.

"Just a moment" turned into fifteen minutes, which turned into half an hour. Zuko sighed, picked at a scab on his hand, and memorized the boring patriotic watercolor on the opposite wall. The building smelled like ink—the rustle of paper could be heard every few minutes through the thin sliding doors to the main offices. The sounds of the town—meat frying, animals braying, cart wheels squeaking—were still audible, but muffled. It was strange, how much he noticed sounds like that. He was used to the ambient noises of crashing waves, rumbling engines, and creaking steel, so much that he barely noticed them when at sea. The sounds of the shore seemed too loud, too foreign.

After what seemed like forever, the same underling came back directed them upstairs to a large, well-furnished office, decorated liberally with the same dull sort of patriotic artwork. At least it appeared that they were finally talking to someone important.

"Hello, Prince Zuko," War Minister Qin said from behind the desk.

"You!" It was out before Zuko could stop it. He cleared his throat. "Pleasant surprise, War Minister." It wasn't. Qin was another unctuously-smiling face from his childhood, another overeducated moron who liked to worm his way into the favor of whoever was in charge. He had also been in the crowd at the Agni Kai.

"Likewise." Qin indicated two chairs in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat."

Zuko sat, eyes burning a hole in Qin's forehead. "I want to know why the pass is blocked," he said. "I'm hunting the Avatar, and I need to inspect all of the air temples."

"Ah, yes, I've heard about your quest. I assure you that no search will be necessary at the air temple here," he replied.

"Explain," Zuko spat. He had no time for this.

"A small community of Earth Kingdom refugees has taken residence at the temple—they've been there for about ten years now, and thoroughly searched in case any of them was the Avatar. They've been contributing quite nicely to the war effort since then, given us plenty of new innovations..." Qin smoothed a piece of paper on his desk. It looked like a drawing of something big and suspiciously phallic. Zuko decided that he didn't want to know what it was. "Who would have thought that Earth Kingdom brutes could prove themselves so useful. I daresay there is Fire Nation blood in that line... of course the citizens of the lesser nations do not have the capacity to create such things by themselves."

"I want to search the temple anyway," Zuko said. "There could have been someone that was missed. Someone who was able to pass themselves off as Earth Kingdom."

"I'm afraid that will not be an option, Prince Zuko. The temple's inhabitants are working quite diligently without undue interference on our part... we wouldn't want to make them nervous. It might spoil the metaphorical soup." He smiled a condescending smile that Zuko wanted to punch out of existence.

"I'm going to search the temple, and you can't stop me!"

"No, of course not. I'm sure it would be worth it for you to poke around and find nothing, and return to find that your ship and crew have all been reassigned."

Zuko could not say anything. He gritted his teeth, gripped the arms of his chair so hard that wisps of smoke started to rise from his fingers, and scowled. _You puny man... one day I'll be Firelord, and you'll have to do what I say. You'll be cleaning stables, so help me. You're not even a firebender. You're not even useful in any way. You're just a weasel-snake stroking a picture of a giant metal... whatever that is._

When he had gained control of himself, Zuko stood up and made for the door, not saying anything to the War Minister. "Come on, Uncle. We're going."

There was nothing for him here.

* * *

"Perhaps this is for the best, my nephew. The other air temples were all deserted, and this one has already been searched. The days we saved can now be used to search other, less obvious locations." Iroh paid the boy his promised coins and handed Twinkle Toes' reins to Zuko, who snatched them with unnecessary violence.

"He's hiding here. I know it. That slimy, obstructive... he wants to keep the glory for himself! He's just waiting for the right time!"

"I don't think so. If the Avatar were here, the Fire Nation would know about it, and Qin would have already gotten whatever glory there is to be had."

Zuko sat down heavily in the saddle, but paused before riding out. "Uncle... do you even _want_ me to capture the Avatar?"

"What will make you happy is what I want. Why do you ask?"

"Because you said it was for the best that I couldn't search the one place where he's probably hiding. But I'm not going to give up, and I'm not going to let anyone stand in my way. I'm going to capture the Avatar, and I'm going to get my honor back." With that, he turned his rhino around and rode away without hearing Iroh's weary sigh or the resigned shake of his head.

When they returned to the ship, Zuko barricaded himself in his room and sat down at his desk with one of his new scrolls out in front of him, but he couldn't understand what he was looking at—he was too angry. He stared at one illustration for several minutes before his door opened with a rusty creak.

"I think I will do some shopping while we're still in town," Iroh said. "Would you care to join me?"

"No."

"Are you sure? I've heard that this part of the continent is known for its very fine handicrafts."

"I don't care about handicrafts, Uncle."

"Whatever you say."

The door creaked shut again, leaving Zuko to deal with his frustration alone.

* * *

The ship was still quiet later that evening, with Uncle still out shopping and the rest of the crew continuing to make good use of their shore leave. Zuko lay on his futon, now bored out of his skull in addition to still being angry.

Somewhere above him, a rat scuttled across the metal floor. There was a yowl, and the scuttling stopped. Another victim of the savage Tetsu. Somewhere below him, he could hear someone walking, and then sitting down in a chair. That would be Lieutenant Jee—though he served with a disreputable crew, he was Academy-educated, and therefore a different sort of sailor than most.

The engines were quiet; the harbor water sloshing against the sides of the ship could be heard if Zuko held his breath. He was going to go crazy. He knew it. He couldn't last like this. He had to keep moving, he had to keep searching. He would find a way to get into the Northern Air Temple, eventually. No mere desk rat would be able to stop him.

He couldn't remember making a conscious decision to get up and go outside. Once he was there, he couldn't remember deciding to leave the ship and head in the direction of the rowdy dockside taverns.

He chose one at random. He'd been drunk twice before, both for different reasons. This time would be for another reason entirely. He sat down and ordered shochu, just one of many red and black uniforms that crowded the dark, low-ceilinged building.

He was on his second cup before he knew it. The tavern felt too warm, close, stifling—all around him was the odor of drink and sweat, the sounds of raucous, braying laughter and battered stools scraping on the stained wooden floor. The alcohol was going to his head quicker than before—he felt light and dizzy, and wasn't quite sure when he called for another cup.

An elbow came out of nowhere and smashed the still partly-full ceramic cup.

"Watch it," Zuko snapped, whirling around to the elbow's source.

"What'choo say?" said its owner, a large sailor with an ugly mustache.

"I said, _watch it_."

It took several hours for Zuko to realize that he'd probably picked a fight with the wrong person. But right then, any capacity he had for rational thought was doused in anger and strong spirits. He stood, swaying slightly, disoriented in the dark. Later, he would mostly remember making fists, assuming a sloppy fighting stance, and promptly getting punched in the face.

Stars erupted around his right cheek and eyebrow—he reeled, trying to regain his balance, but his opponent lashed out with his other fist. Instinctively, Zuko blocked it and thanked his training, drunkenly, still not thinking quite right. But suddenly, he didn't know how, he found himself on the floor, looking up at a boot that was about to come down—he rolled, the boot's owner slipped on a spilled drink and fell in turn.

Zuko staggered upright, prepared to fight again, but a strong and, more importantly, sober hand grabbed him by the collar.

The next thing he knew, he was outside where the air was fresh and there were no boots trying to crush his face.

Somehow, he made it back to the ship and the sanctuary of his room. He wasn't angry anymore. He just felt sick—his face hurt, his mouth tasted like blood, all he wanted was to lie down for a little while and wait for the room to stop spinning...

He wanted to go home. There was no good for him in the world, especially not right now. He wanted to go back to where he belonged, where he knew he was supposed to be.

"Zuko."

Zuko's eyes snapped open at the sound of his name and the touch of a warm hand on his bruised, swollen cheek.

"Uncle."

"Where have you been, my nephew? What happened?"

Zuko winced. "Nowhere. Nothing happened." But he knew it was probably the most unconvincing lie he had ever told, what with the battle damage he now displayed and the smell of alcohol that he had brought with him.

There was sorrow, but no judgment or disgust on Uncle's face when he left and came back with clean water and cloths, and as he gently cleaned the sticky blood that had congealed around Zuko's split eyebrow. He had bought some ice in the marketplace for some reason, and broke a chunk off to lessen the swelling all around his cheekbone and the outside corner of his eye.

For the life of him, Zuko couldn't imagine why his uncle was being so kind. He'd done something stupid and dangerous without giving it even two seconds' thought. He should be lecturing him, or punishing him somehow, or whatever. But he didn't.

Zuko should have known, however, that he wouldn't be getting off that easily. The real punishment came the next morning, when Uncle woke him up bright and early with a long, jovial commentary that jangled between his ears and made his brain feel like it was throbbing in his skull, made even worse when he opened the narrow, tinted-glass windows, letting a shaft of sunlight fall over Zuko's already-tormented face. Breakfast consisted of the hangover cure that the rest of the crew swore by: century eggs and kimchee mixed up with stinky tofu, all doused in red-hot chili sauce, washed down with strong, smoky black tea.

It wasn't until a few years later that Zuko learned that all of this was exactly what Iroh had done when fifteen-year-old Lu Ten had crept out in the middle of the night to go drinking with his friends, only to come back plastered and sporting a black eye and a loose tooth.

* * *

They didn't stay in port for very long, only a few days. With the air temple closed off, there was no reason to stay for longer than it took to get everything ready for the next leg of the voyage. From there, Zuko planned to sail back around the northern tip of the Earth Kingdom continent and head south once again, passing by the Fire Nation, and into the warm, tropical seas immediately south of it. There were tiny islands there, too small to be of major strategic interest. Plenty of secluded places for a person to hide. He planned to be in the Southern Earth Kingdom by summer's end, with plenty of time to head north before winter set in. From there... who knew where he would go from there. He had the world before him, and only one goal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope, Zuko doesn't get to meet Teo until after the Day of Black Sun. Sorry, fangirls.


	15. Shuang the Traitor, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, two-parter!

Another burning projectile came arcing down through the haze of smoke and grit in the air. It missed—a giant wave swamped the deck, and the ship veered sharply to one side.

Zuko furiously rubbed his streaming eyes and tried to get a deep breath, but the smoke was too thick. He couldn't see, he couldn't breathe—

"We can't take another one!" came Lieutenant Jee's voice from somewhere behind him. "We have to get out of here before they sink us!"

Part of Zuko's brain was still screaming at him to _stay! Fight! Don't give up! Don't let them win!_ But Jee's words were true, and he knew it. He opened his mouth to say something, but ended up choking on the smoke cloud that surrounded him.

The sheer weight of another flaming rock was felt throughout the shuddering steel as it slammed into the hull.

"Helmsman!" he managed to roar despite his burning throat. "Full steam ahead! Head a course for New Azulon!"

"The engines are damaged! Again!"

" _Get us out of here!"_

He could hear the engines grinding, straining to keep the ship moving. They picked up speed with agonizing slowness—the whole ship felt like it was struggling to stay together, let alone going in any particular direction.

Another rock streaked through the sky, only to splash down just shy of the stern. The ruins of their own catapult lay in a twisted heap in the center of the deck, a smoldering fireball in the middle of it.

The ship picked up speed despite the damage to its engines. The smoke cleared, streaming back behind them and into the faces of their pursuers; only a temporary hindrance, but an advantage that Zuko could not afford to waste. He wiped his streaming eyes—the back of his hand came away dark and grimy with soot.

 _They came out of nowhere. Their ship looked identical to mine... when they attacked... I thought I could take them. Stupid._

Two men worked the emergency pump at the stern, sending rhythmic gushes of water over the now-steaming engine casing. The whole ship was tilted slightly to one side, and everything was coated in wet grime, even the crew. It was bad.

The other ship had slunk out of sight by the time land appeared on the horizon a few hours later, and with it, dozens of battleships. New Azulon. The biggest naval outpost outside of the Fire Nation itself. As soon as they docked, the engine made a horrible crunching noise and was silent.

Zuko sighed, closed his eyes, and braced his hands against the nearest railing, only to draw back with a gasp when pain lanced through his flesh. The palms of his hands were pink and blistered—burns. _Spirits, when did that happen?_ He thought back to the beginning of the battle. When the first rock hit... it was chaos, fire all over the place, fire and burning debris that he wouldn't have thought to use his bending to divert. It could have happened any time since then. He honestly didn't know.

Now that he knew he was hurt, the pain demanded attention. Instead, he gritted his teeth and looked around for Lieutenant Jee. He needed a report.

"Mostly minor injuries all around," said the older man, who had clean lines in the soot on his face from where beads of sweat had rolled down his forehead. Zuko suspected that he looked pretty similar. "We got Liu taken down to the hospital already. He'll be fine, I think. The engine is completely shot—they've got people looking at it, but I don't know if it can be repaired. The catapult's definitely going to have to be replaced."

 _Damn._ "What _was_ that other ship? It looked just like another Seeker-class from far away." Same length from bow to stern, same tower height... any differences were minute and went unnoticed when the fighting began. But it soon became apparent that they were outmatched—the other ship sported not a single short-range catapult, but two trebuchets.

"I'm pretty sure it was a Terrier-class battleship; they call it 'the snapping turtle' in the navy. They were designed to have the size and speed of a Seeker, but the armament of a Serpent."

"I've never heard of them."

"They didn't make very many. They're inefficient and high-maintenance, but..."

"They can really mess you up," Zuko muttered under his breath. He looked down at his throbbing hands. Gingerly, he flexed his fingers.

"You should get that looked at, sir."

"I know." He had everything else to attend to first. "How are the rhinos?"

"They're all right. I didn't look too closely. That damn cat's down there with them." Jee took a deep breath. "We're going to be here for a while. A few weeks, at least." At his words, Zuko immediately felt the agony of being cooped up already starting to creep up on him. Automatically, his hands curled into fists, but he winced at the action. His search was hindered again. There was always something. Just his luck.

* * *

Eventually, Iroh was able to pry Zuko away from the ship and up the hill to the hospital. As soon as his hands were coated with numbing salve and bandaged, he managed to find a change of clothes and quickly wash his face, and then went right back outside to where the battered hulk of his ship sat forlornly in the harbor. It looked so pathetic, dented and charred and bobbing helplessly in the water. Looking at it now, Zuko realized that it was amazing that they had made it into port at all.

"Damn, this is going to be expensive," he growled to himself. He almost wished he could join the regular navy, where he wouldn't have to worry about such things. But the terms of his banishment forbade it, even after he came of age. He was alone in the world, with no place to call home but his ship. His small, aging ship that was now beaten into submission.

For the first time, Zuko felt real anger on its behalf.

"Prince Zuko?" Zuko looked up to the source of the unfamiliar voice. A man in a commander's uniform was striding down the pier to where he stood, a scroll clutched in one hand.

"Yes."

"I am Wei, commander of New Azulon. I was hoping I might have a word with you."

Zuko nodded and followed him up the hill to a large tent crowned with several pennants. Inside was a table covered in paper; a cursory inspection revealed them to be mostly damage reports, along with a few sea charts, on which routes were traced in pencil.

"Word spreads quickly in a place like this," Wei began without preamble. "I understand your ship was attacked by Shuang the Traitor."

"I don't know who that is," Zuko confessed. "We didn't have enough time to find out anything about him. We were attacked as soon as he spotted us."

"Shuang the Traitor is a former Fire Navy captain. He and his entire crew turned against the Fire Nation about four months ago," the commander explained. "All we know about him comes from a young midshipman he set adrift on a raft—the only one of his crew who didn't turn traitor. Why he didn't just kill him, I'm not sure—perhaps he did it to taunt us. Anyway, he's been a menace in this area since he turned. He's not your ordinary pirate... he only attacks Fire Nation ships, and very rarely takes any as prizes. Not a day goes by that I don't get a new report from a ship he's attacked..." Wei gestured to the papers on his table. "For as many reports I get of ships that were salvageable, there has to be just as many that were sunk."

Zuko gritted his teeth and nodded.

"I want to know anything you can tell me about the attack," Wei finished. "Your lieutenant told me that it was a Terrier-class ship that matches our description of Shuang's. Anything about his style of attack, where you encountered him... anything. He's like smoke. We have to take care of him before he does any more damage."

"He was able to get close to us by keeping his flags up," Zuko replied. "We thought he was just another Fire Navy ship. When he attacked... we weren't prepared. As soon as we raised our catapult, he took it out. It only took him one try, too." Wei was nodding and stroking his sideburns throughout Zuko's explanation.

"What was on his flags?"

"I couldn't tell. They looked green, though. We were able to lose him eventually, when we got closer to port."

"Green flags," Wei mused. "He has a different flag for every day of the week, it seems. I've got reports of black flags, blue flags, yellow flags, flags with tigers on them..." He shook his head. "He knows the Fire Navy too well."

"Has he been helping the Earth Kingdom?"

"I'm not sure if he's been helping them directly. He may just be helping them by taking out Fire Nation ships. I don't know what would make an entire crew turn on their nation." He rubbed his forehead. Zuko then noticed the circles under his eyes, the lines around his downturned mouth. "I think I'd prefer it if he had just joined up with them and left the rest of us alone. Fewer ships sunk, fewer needless deaths..."

Zuko nodded. He understood.

* * *

The crew was put up in the barracks while the ship underwent repairs, with Zuko, Iroh, Jee, and Hong occupying slightly more spacious rooms in the officers' building. Commander Wei graciously invited Zuko and Iroh to dine with him that evening—although Iroh was delighted to accept, Zuko declined, not looking forward to being expected to socialize with anyone, especially not military officers who may or may not have been in the crowd at his Agni Kai.

It soon became apparent that going to dinner would have been the less painful option. Through the same stroke of bad luck that had undoubtedly been following him from the minute he was born, he found himself sharing a room with a weedy midshipman a few years his senior who _could not stop talking_.

"...It was either become a fisherman or join the navy, but I'm a firebender, so it turned out that I had to join the navy after all. Not that being a fisherman would have been a very good option anyway, since I'm from Jang Hui and the river there's so polluted that all the fish have two heads. Or they're dead. Either way, the fishing industry's going nowhere, so I'm in the Navy for the next thirty years! You know, it would normally be twenty, but I'm in the Academy now so I owe them an extra ten. The life's not bad, though, hopefully I'll be a captain within five years of graduation. Or at least a lieutenant on my way to becoming a captain, I'd take being a lieutenant on a larger ship to being a captain on a smaller ship. That way my connections are better, you know? For later, and all that."

He kept talking, undeterred by Zuko's lack of response. Zuko kept himself occupied and sane by meticulously cleaning his armor, prying the dirt out of every nook and cranny and trying to coax the loudest clanking noises he could out of the leather and metal in order to drown out the midshipman's yammering. The rag he was using was already filthy with oil and soot. He tried to keep the bandages on his hands clean, but that soon became a battle he was destined to lose.

"Mom says they've been really feeling the dry season back home, I guess it makes the fishing even worse than it was to begin with, something about it never raining... I don't know. Even if I wasn't a firebender, I don't think I was cut out to be a fisherman, I can't ever remember how it all works or what makes it good or bad, or whatever. But I've been sending some of my pay home, and I guess it really helps. I haven't seen them in _forever_ , man. I'm going to go visit as soon as I go back to the Fire Nation for exams. My brother's going to want to hear all about the navy, he's crazy about ships."

Later, Zuko retrieved his ledger and tried to calculate the expense of repairs and fit it into the budget somehow, but couldn't concentrate. He wondered if this peasant midshipman had even stopped talking when he left the room to get the book, or if he had just continued blabbering away to the empty room. He wondered if he'd even noticed that he had left at all.

"When I was a kid I never thought I'd ever leave home, let alone join the navy and go to the Earth Kingdom! I thought I'd maybe get to see the Capital, if I was lucky. Now they're talking about sending us to Omashu, Ba Sing Se, maybe even the Water Tribes. Can you imagine? My cousin Hua says that the Water Tribe barbarians are cannibals and that they stick the heads of their enemies on spears outside their houses. That's really gross, but I kind of want to see it. Maybe I'll get a tattoo of a severed head, so when people ask about it, I'll be able to tell them about seeing the Water Tribe. At the very least I hope I get to see a polar leopard. I heard they have the warmest fur _ever_. Or penguins, man. Everything's better with—"

"Wang. _Shut up_."

To Zuko's surprise, he stopped talking, probably startled by the brutal honesty of that command. The silence was blissful and so, so welcome. Zuko took a moment to revel in it before getting to work on the ledger. Out of the corner of his eye, Wang looked a little hurt. Good. Maybe that would teach him to keep his running commentary to himself.

The numbers didn't look good. Zuko didn't have to finish his calculations to see that there was no way he could afford to get his ship repaired. He couldn't even afford the barest repairs that would keep it running. Even if he fired the entire crew, he was going to be stuck in New Azulon until the next anniversary of his banishment. Commander Wei seemed like a fair man, but he wouldn't waive the expense of such extensive repairs—and even if he would, Zuko wouldn't have accepted the offer, just like he wouldn't accept any charity from Uncle. Not a chance.

After going over the numbers two more times to make sure there wasn't something he'd missed, he sighed and flopped down onto his cot.

 _There has to be a way. I am_ not _going to be stuck here until next spring. I might as well just give up entirely and become a farmer or something. I won't let that happen. I can't let that happen. I have to keep going_.

Wang glanced at the ledger where it lay open on Zuko's knees.

"Wow, you're really good at math. Are you in training to be a quartermaster or something? Because I could never do that, I'm terrible at math. I got the worst marks _ever_ when I—"

"I said _shut up_."

* * *

Zuko lay awake long into the night. Even without the dilemma that was constantly on his mind, or even the squeaking of Wang's cot as he thrashed around exactly every seven minutes, he couldn't sleep in a building on dry land. He was used to the sound of the waves and the rumbling of the engines constantly in the background, as well as the weightless sensation of the ship being gently pushed and pulled by the water, as if a giant fish were swimming around somewhere in the depths. Land seemed too solid, too confining. He couldn't move fast over land. The building itself seemed to be closing in on him, even though his room on the ship was, in reality, much smaller.

Frustrated, he flipped his pillow over and turned to face the wall. By going through his sword exercises in his head, he was able to block out the sound of Wang's squeaking cot. He closed his eyes and envisioned the illustrations from the scrolls that Uncle had given him.

He didn't know when the thought hit him. He was beginning to drift off, finally, when the idea entered his mind. His eyes flew open, and he sat up straight, suddenly wide awake and alert.

"A letter of marque," he said aloud to the room at large. Suddenly too restless to even stay in bed, let alone try to sleep, he got up and crept out of the room. He began pacing the long hallway in his bare feet, laying out the possibilities in his mind.

It was risky. No, it was beyond risky. He didn't have a _great_ chance of success, but he would figure something out. But this was his only chance to pay the price of repairs, keep his crew, and ultimately continue his search. Continuing his search, no matter how he did it, was of the utmost importance. Everything else was secondary to it.

* * *

First thing in the morning, Zuko went to talk to Commander Wei. During the night, another report of a ship damaged by Shuang the Traitor had come in via messenger hawk and had joined the mess of reports in Wei's tent.

"I have a proposition for you," he said. "In exchange for repairing my ship, I can get Shuang and deliver him to you."

At first, Wei just stared at him. Then he raised a skeptical eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "You want a letter of marque." Zuko nodded. "Just how old are you?"

Zuko frowned. "I took my first prize when I was fourteen," he said. Wei wasn't fazed at all by his dodge—the commander gave him a calculating look, clearly not convinced either of Zuko's sincerity or his capability. All he'd seen of Zuko, his crew, and his ship since yesterday was a banished teenage prince, a ragtag bunch of men whose fortunes no longer lay in the regular navy, and an ancient, broken-down battleship that had nearly been smashed into oblivion.

There was a long silence between them.

"If I fail, I'll surrender my ship," Zuko said.

"Assuming there's anything left of it should you fail," Wei remarked dryly. He stood up and paced behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back. "I have a son about your age, back in the Fire Nation. He doesn't even know what a letter of marque is, let alone what to do with one." Zuko was about to respond to this, but noticed that Wei was talking to the map of the western Earth Kingdom on the far wall of the tent, not to him. The commander gave a short, humorless laugh, turned around, and sat. "What a world we live in. Very well." He swept a pile of papers to one side of his desk and took out a clean sheet. "This will need your seal, that of your first officer, and mine. Then it will take a couple of weeks for it to either be approved or denied by the Firelord and sent back here."

 _Approved by the Firelord? I hadn't thought of that_. Zuko was suddenly nervous. What _would_ his father do?

"In exchange for delivering Shuang to me, your ship will be repaired and you will have access to the Fire Navy's resources until the time that you do. You have until the end of the summer to do it. Your orders: sink, burn, or take his ship as a prize, and bring him to me, dead or alive. Should you fail, you will surrender your ship and crew to the Fire Navy." Commander Wei wrote all this down in a very fine hand, and then sat back to let the ink dry.

"And his crew?"

"It doesn't matter. I'd prefer it if most of them were spared and delivered along with Shuang for questioning purposes, but you are at liberty to do whatever is the most practical and convenient." He stamped the paper with his personal seal, and then slid it across the table to Zuko. "The sooner I get that back, the sooner it will be sent off."

"Thank you."

"Spirits of fire defend you," Wei replied, sounding slightly resigned.

* * *

When Zuko made his way back to the officers' barracks, presented the letter to Lieutenant Jee, and requested his seal, Jee's usually stoic demeanor crumbled dramatically.

"Are you crazy? Did you even give this a moment's thought beforehand?" he demanded. A vein was pulsing in his temple even as he stamped the paper, unwilling to disobey direct orders despite his own opinions. "It took them less than ten minutes to nearly _sink_ our entire ship. We can _not_ take them down in any kind of confrontation, in any conditions!"

"That may not be true, Lieutenant," Iroh said serenely from where he sat nearby, brewing ginseng tea. "I have triumphed over very discouraging odds in my time. I'm sure we will figure something out."

"And for the record," Zuko said, annoyed, "I thought about it all night. So yes, I _did_ think about it ahead of time."

Jee's expression was mutinous, but he handed the paper back, now bearing his personal seal. Zuko then added his, and looked down at the nearly-complete letter of marque. All it needed now was the seal of the Firelord. The very same seal that was on the record of Zuko's banishment. He forced himself to believe that his father believed in him, that he would approve the letter because he knew Zuko could take out the traitor captain. But there was still that nasty little voice in the back of his head, that offered up several different possibilities, none of which Zuko wanted to believe were true. He forced the voice out of his head and went back to return the letter to Commander Wei.

* * *

Two and a half weeks passed before the letter made it back from the Fire Nation to New Azulon. During this time, Zuko made sure to spend as much time outside the barracks as possible to avoid Wang and to keep from feeling despondent. The feeling of four walls all around him made him feel a little crazy. Almost every day, he took a rhino out into the countryside surrounding the town, exploring a different corner of the area every time. He saw villages, all firmly colonized and Avatar-free, and vast stretches of forest that were starting to be cut away for timber and farmland. He even saw a few Earth Kingdom citizens, who either gave him a wide, nervous berth as they passed each other on the road, or gave him the most murderous looks he had ever seen.

When the letter came, it bore the seal of Firelord Ozai. His father had approved the letter of marque after all.

The repairs were almost complete. Soon, they would be able to head out to find Shuang the Traitor. Fire Navy ships had been sent out regularly to try and capture him, but none were successful. And every day, new reports showed up on Commander Wei's desk.

"I wonder why the Firelord would approve your letter," Iroh said one evening over tea. "That doesn't seem like something he would do. Unless, of course, he has some kind of ulterior motive."

"He _doesn't_ have an ulterior motive, Uncle," Zuko snapped. "He approved it because he knows I can do it! He has faith in me! You don't, obviously!"

"Of course I have faith in you, Prince Zuko. I just don't want you to get the wrong idea about this."

"How do I have the wrong idea? He wouldn't approve the damn thing if he didn't think I would be able to do it. That's all there is to _get_." Zuko snatched the letter and left, going back to his room. He didn't need to listen to Uncle try to convince him of things that he knew weren't true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Story Notes** : I think a lot of times we as Zuko fans forget that even though he's a "good guy" at heart, he doesn't know it yet. At this point he's still very much loyal to the country that's taking over the world, committing genocide, and making life hell for everyone else. So in this chapter and the next, he's going to be hunting down someone who would very likely be a friend/ally of Aang and Co. And even though Cmdr. Wei is sending Zuko out to catch/kill Shuang, he isn't a bad guy either. He's just a normal person who was just born on the wrong side of the war and turned out to be pretty good at his job. I'm going for moral ambiguity here, which is something that I really enjoyed about Avatar when I first saw it. Let me know how I'm doing.
> 
>  **Historical Notes** : In the Age of Sail, a letter of marque was essentially a piracy license. It was a document signed by the King that allowed the owner, during wartime, to attack foreign shipping. If you've ever seen the movie _Master and Commander_ , the French ship _Acheron_ was a privateer, i.e. a legal pirate thanks to a letter of marque, hence why the _HMS Surprise_ was sent to attack it. Privateers were not part of the regular navy, but privately-owned ships like Zuko's. For the purposes of this story, I've changed the function of a letter of marque a little; I'm assuming that the Fire Nation is already attacking Earth Kingdom shipping so having a document making it legal would be kind of pointless. Here it functions more like a contract, granting the holder a certain privilege (free ship maintenance) if he can fulfill a certain task (take down Shuang). Also, real-world privateers would have to put up a bunch of money in order to get their letter of marque as a precaution against breaking "the rules" (attacking neutral parties, leaving their approved hunting grounds, etc), hence Zuko offering his ship up in case he should fail.


	16. Shuang the Traitor, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, one fathom = about 6 feet.
> 
> Also, feel free to call me out on my BS if I got something very, very wrong technology-wise.

"Sir, that's eight sightings in the last two weeks," Lieutenant Zhu said, sounding slightly nervous. "No Fire Navy ship so far has been this... persistent."

Shuang was silent for a moment, still staring through the telescope. The other ship was nowhere to be seen... as always, it had appeared for a few moments, and then slipped off beyond their sights. Never close enough to attack, and never in sight for long enough to get any details. All he knew was that it was a small ship. Small, fast, agile, and probably lightly armed. No match for them in a confrontation, but quick enough to dart away when they started approaching. And no matter how long they followed the course, they couldn't find it after it had already gone.

"We don't even know if it was the same ship each time," the captain said finally, straightening up and heading back for the bridge once he was sure that the other ship had disappeared. "There are always ships coming in and out of New Azulon, you know that."

"If it is, he's probably following the trail of damaged vessels that managed to get away," Zhu said with a smirk.

"Well, then we'd better make sure we don't leave a trail of damaged vessels for him to follow," Shuang replied. "We've been lazy. There's no reason we can't sink every single ship we attack."

"Yes, sir."

"Make a note of the sighting, Lieutenant. If this continues, and there's any kind of pattern, we'll know that it is, indeed, only one ship."

"And if it is?"

"Then we'll need some way to lure it in close enough for an attack. Simply flying a Fire Nation flag and sailing right up to him obviously won't do."

By now Wei would have gotten enough information to warn all ships entering and leaving New Azulon of Shuang's existence and the nature of his ship. Terriers were uncommon enough to be noticed, especially in these parts. But Shuang wouldn't have traded his ship for anything—he had been assigned to it since he was a midshipman, and besides, no other class of battleship could take down so many other classes with such speed and efficiency. A little unwanted fame was an acceptable price to pay.

"Yes, sir. I'll tell you when we know more."

"Very good, Lieutenant."

Shuang lifted his eyes to the horizon once more. He hadn't yet done enough to bring down the regime. Whatever trap Wei had set up for him... well, he wouldn't let himself fall into it. He owed that to himself, his crew, and the Fire Nation.

* * *

"Sir, that's eight sightings in the last two weeks," Lieutenant Jee said, sounding slightly annoyed. "Do you have a plan yet?"

"I'm working on it."

"Well, good, because we can't keep running off as soon as we see him."

Jee's mood had not improved since Zuko had asked for his seal on the letter of marque. That was almost a month ago. Zuko couldn't help but feel a little down about this—maybe the two of them weren't _friends_ , but he had thought that there was something of an understanding between them. Well, he thought wrong, but it didn't matter. He had no use for such things. All he wanted was his honor back. That was all that mattered.

"Terriers have two trebuchets, right?" Zuko asked, absently rubbing the top of his head. He was going to be sunburned soon, but he didn't mind. The summer sunshine, especially intense this close to the equator, was more than welcome.

"Right."

"So they're useless at short range."

"That depends. Sometimes they have an auxiliary catapult at the stern, but some ships trade it for greater speed."

"If we managed to get close enough to him, would it mean that he wouldn't be able to attack us?"

"In theory, yes. But that would be impossible. We might be a little faster than him, but we wouldn't be able to get close enough before he destroyed us completely."

"If we _did_ manage to get close enough—"

"Then it's a small matter for him to sail far enough away to put us in range again."

"Well, do _you_ have a plan?"

"Not right away," Jee said. "I've never tried to take on a Terrier with a Seeker with intent to _win_ before."

"Did you do it with intent to lose?" Zuko snapped, hands clenching on the railing in front of him. In spite of himself, he was rather proud of that comeback. Jee, however, did not dignify it with a response.

Both of them were silent for a long time. The ship was stationary in the water, for now. They were near the Blue Cliffs, a long stretch of uninhabitable, steep coastline on the western shores of the Earth Kingdom. Or the former Earth Kingdom, as it were—most territory in this area was under Fire Nation rule, and had been for at least half a century.

As far as Zuko could see, with or without a long glass, there was nowhere to hide along the shore. Nowhere to lie in wait for Shuang to pass by so they could spring a trap. If they wanted to have any kind of chance to bring him down, they would have to move the ship into different waters, and somehow get the traitor to follow.

He couldn't stay outside. He had to go into his room, where he could be alone and think.

His mind was working faster and faster as he went inside, trudged down the narrow spiral staircase , and ended up in his room, where he shut and bolted the door behind him. He couldn't think of anything, but he had to think of _something_. The faster he took care of Shuang and freed himself from the terms of his letter of marque, the better. He couldn't search for the Avatar while he was searching for Shuang, and if he didn't catch Shuang, he would never be able to catch the Avatar.

"This was a mistake," he said to his empty room, his dread growing as he started to realize just how bad of a decision it was.

But there was no way out now. He made a stupid decision, and he had to follow through.

"Why am I such an idiot!" he shouted. "Why can't I just _think_ before I do things!" The air crackled around him, threatening to ignite in his rage. He grabbed the nearest breakable object and flung it across the room. He realized belatedly that it was his jar of scar salve, and that the contents were now splattered all over the wall, unable to be saved.

Suddenly weary, he slumped against the wall and slid down until he was sitting with his knees under his chin. The full implications of what he had gotten himself into were just starting to sink in, and he felt very small and very alone.

"I had no other option," he said to himself. His voice shook, much to his annoyance, even though no one was there to hear. "It was either this, or be grounded forever. I had no other choice."

That mantra, no matter how insistently he said it, did little to calm his nerves.

* * *

Zuko knew he would never be able to sleep that night, so he stayed up on the bridge with the night watch, drinking scalding-hot, bitter black tea that probably had a little something _extra_ added to it. He sat at the deserted pai sho table, some of Uncle's scrolls and a sea chart spread out in front of him. The engines' low, steady rumbling and the faint crashing of the waves outside, combined with occasional metallic groans from the ship and rusty squeaks from the helm, served as white noise so he could think.

A little further southeast, and the Blue Cliffs would give way to a coastline that was a mix of treacherous rocks and safe natural harbors in the stone cliff face. That was their best bet, a place to hide and figure out what to do about Shuang.

But how to get him to follow? According to Commander Wei, he had been lurking around New Azulon since he turned on the Fire Nation. This would be a bit out of his way. Unless...

Zuko turned to the sea chart, squinting—his eyes burned and the paper seemed to glow red in the dim light. There was a tiny island even further south, labeled "Turtle Island—Pirates." It was at least a few weeks out from New Azulon, and Zuko bet his broadswords that Shuang was resupplying there. His ship was too small and too fast to be carrying enough supplies for a full crew and enough coal for very long. So it was apparent that he did, occasionally at least, leave his hunting grounds.

"But what could he gain from following us out of here," Zuko muttered to himself. He took a sip of tea, rubbed his tired eyes, and tried to think.

Shuang would be sure to follow if he thought the payoff would be good enough. But would the prospect of sinking a Seeker be a sufficient incentive, when he had already destroyed much larger ships? And by the time Shuang was hot on his tail, would he be able to get to safety? Or would the traitor catch up and succeed in sinking him this time?

No. He wouldn't let that happen. It might be meager, but the ship was his home. He'd already helped to defend it from pirates, and he would do it again.

He had to lure Shuang out somehow. That much was certain. But _then_ what would he do? He already knew that he and his ship were no match for Shuang and his damn Terrier.

 _I am too tired to think right now. Then again, I can't even think when I'm not tired. I can't win._ Zuko rubbed his face, rested his chin in his hands, and closed his eyes. What was it that his mother would say, when she dozed off in the afternoons? " _I'm not sleeping, I'm just resting my eyes..."_

He jolted awake when his head slipped off his hands. He picked up his cup of tea—it was no longer steaming-hot. How long had he been sleeping like that?

He drained the cup and doggedly went back to his thinking and poring over the sea chart. It could tell him nothing new. Instead of looking for information that wasn't there, he got up and went outside into the warm, starry night. A light breeze had picked up since that afternoon, carrying the ever-present smell of coal smoke away from the ship to be replaced with the scent of fresh, salty sea.

Zuko walked to the starboard railing and looked down at the dark water beneath them. The waves shimmered with reflected moonlight, but the water itself was clear and pure, and underneath it, he could see the large, black silhouettes of rocks.

The idea hit him as suddenly as any idea ever had.

He knew what to do to take down Shuang.

* * *

"Of course I think it's a good idea, Prince Zuko. In fact, I was waiting to see how long it would take for you to come up with it yourself—I had it in mind for quite some time." Iroh smiled over the rim of his teacup.

"What—why didn't you tell me? What if I never figured it out?"

"You have entirely too little faith in yourself. I certainly would have helped if it had seemed to me that you were making a mistake." He poured more fragrant green tea for his scowling nephew and set the pot down. "But clearly, I had no cause to worry."

"We're going to have to go back to New Azulon to get everything we need. How long do you think that's going to take?"

"Once we're in port, probably only a few days. I know some of the right people in the right departments, and they should get us what we need with no unnecessary delays."

"Good."

"You might also ask Lieutenant Jee for his assistance. He is more experienced than most, in this area."

Zuko nodded and stared into his tea, thinking. His plan seemed to have no flaws so far, but he was still working out the finer details in his head. "Uncle? Does blasting jelly float?"

"In wooden barrels, yes. I would say it's less likely for the solid metal barrels you have in mind, so we'll have to find some way to make up for that."

"Maybe the foundry master will have an idea."

A bit later, when Zuko presented his plan to Lieutenant Jee, the older man received it with, apparently, grudging regard. He pointed out no obvious problems with it, but seemed to find the method somewhat contemptible. Implied was that it was a tactic only Water Tribe barbarians used. But Zuko rationalized it by saying that they were at an obvious disadvantage against Shuang's Terrier, and needed to make use of every tactic available.

* * *

Lieutenant Zhu and the rest of the men relaxed a little when the strange, fast ship on the horizon disappeared for a full week. "It was nothing," the crew said in hushed tones, relieved. Just traffic in or out of New Azulon; one, two, or several scout ships. Now they would finally be able to get back to sinking ships with their former gusto.

But Captain Shuang was not convinced.

" _No,_ " he said to his lieutenant. "Never assume it's nothing. It's always something, and we cannot afford to let our guard down. Do you know what they do to traitors that they catch?" Zhu gulped visibly at this. All of them knew the consequences of their treason, should the Fire Nation catch them. They had all accepted the possibility that they would be caught and punished, which only made them fight harder to _not_ be caught. "We will remain on alert. Something's up. I don't know what it is just yet, but I will not lose this ship to mere carelessness."

Zhu bowed, left the bridge, and went to the speaking tubes to put the men on alert.

* * *

"Underwater mines using blasting jelly," the foundry master muttered, looking over the rough design that Zuko and Lieutenant Jee had drawn up on the way back to New Azulon. "This is a good idea. The design will need to be reworked a little, though. It would be better for us if we had a preexisting design to go off of."

The Fire Nation did not generally use mines in naval combat against the Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom. Their ships were small and fragile enough to be completely destroyed by a single catapult shot, making mines simply not worth the time. But the enemy, on the other hand, used such things where they could—the Fire Nation's steel ships were otherwise unstoppable. Their explosives of choice, however, were not nearly as powerful as blasting jelly. This was going to be one hell of an explosion.

Their rough design consisted of a solid metal barrel, kept buoyant by the kind of glass bubbles used by fishermen welded to the top, attached to the sea floor by a long chain. The impact of the Terrier running into one of the barrels would trigger the blasting jelly inside, blowing a good-sized hole into the hull of the ship.

"The metal barrel is unnecessary, and a bit wasteful, to boot," explained the foundry master. He rummaged in the nearest pile of scrap metal (there were plenty of piles all over the premises) until he found what looked like a spherical, spring-loaded cage. "We'll just put a watertight, wooden barrel inside one of these, and attach the glass bubbles as you specified. We've been using the cages to try to catch wild animals and rebels a little further inland. They'll keep the barrel from being completely destroyed before the jelly can be ignited. We'll come up with a way to ignite it, and then we'll put the whole thing together. How many are you going to need?"

"About two dozen," Zuko replied.

"Two dozen. I'll set a journeyman to the task of coming up with a trigger. Come by tomorrow if you want to see a prototype."

"Very well."

* * *

The journeyman had certainly delivered by the time Zuko returned to the foundry the next day. He demonstrated how his mechanism worked—a spring-loaded hammer was welded to the top of the barrel, and attached to the protective cage by several thin wires. Any significant impact on the cage, and the hammer would release and strike the barrel, disrupting the jelly inside enough to trigger the explosion. That was the good thing about blasting jelly. It didn't necessarily need to be ignited—sufficient blunt trauma would do just fine.

To demonstrate the mines' capability, the foundry master had one set out in the middle of the base's deserted Agni Kai arena. The trigger was set and everyone cleared away, observing from the entrance and exit arches on either side of the arena. A talented archer aimed for the metal cage, fired, and suddenly the barrel exploded, sending a deafening, roaring column of fire several storeys high into the sky. A similar test was performed in the water several miles along the coast, with similarly spectacular results.

"Perfect," Zuko pronounced at the end of the day.

* * *

They were only in port for as long as it took for twenty-four underwater mines to be constructed and loaded onto the ship, their triggering mechanisms unarmed for the duration of the journey. With them went two technicians who were familiar with the mines' construction, just in case any should break on the way to the designated minefield.

The spot that had been picked out was perfect. The sea was fairly shallow for a decent distance out from the Blue Cliffs, and the water was warm and crystal-clear blue-green all the way to the rocky bottom. The depth was about four fathoms, closer to three in some places—deep enough to keep either ship from running aground and to keep the mines from being spotted at night, but shallow enough that the chains could be anchored to the rocks by personnel in the water.

The handful of men among them who were the strongest swimmers, Zuko included, had the task of laying the mines.

Two of the six were given modified harpoon guns and instructions on how to use them. The guns fired long, metal stakes with a ring at the unsharpened end into undersea boulders; the other swimmers then looped a length of chain through each ring and used it to lower the mine to the appropriate depth. Once the chain was secured, one of them armed the triggering mechanism on top of the barrel and the process continued once more. As soon as a mine was laid, the helmsman made a red dot on his chart of the area so that he would know where not to sail.

It took three days before all twenty-four mines were laid and armed. Not a single accident occurred, and not a single mine was lost to careless handling. Now all they needed to do was find a way to lure Shuang to their position and hope that sharks didn't decide to take up residence in the minefield.

* * *

The sun was starting to dip below the sea, staining the clouds and water with streaks of fire, when the mystery ship appeared on the horizon.

"Sir, it's back. And it's not moving."

At this, Shuang looked up from his log and exited the bridge to join Zhu on the balcony. The lieutenant offered up his long glass, which Shuang snapped open to examine the ship that sat, motionless, two points off the starboard bow. Sure enough, it wasn't going anywhere. Shuang lowered the glass and frowned slightly.

"Take us in a little closer. Maybe he hasn't seen us yet. If we can get close enough to attack, he'll be ours."

"Yes, sir."

Their ship motored slowly forward, inching ever closer. The other one didn't budge.

"Fool captain's distracted by the sun in his eyes," Shuang said to himself with a small chuckle. "Incompetent. No wonder he doesn't have a better ship." Well, that at least explained why they'd been seeing him so often since he slipped away after being attacked. He probably had a misplaced sense of honor, demanding revenge for the attack... well. That would soon be dealt with.

Shuang's ship eventually came close enough that he could see two men standing on the deck, talking to each other. One was a short, round older man; the other was taller and younger, and wore his hair pulled back into a high, severe ponytail. His face looked strangely asymmetrical even at this distance.

Shuang's eyes widened as the realization hit him. "That's Prince Zuko," he said. Zhu, who was standing a little off to one side, started.

"Should I... call off the attack, sir?"

"No."

"But... you were _there_. Last spring. You said that seeing the duel made you realize—"

"Yes, Lieutenant, I remember." Shuang still stared through the glass. "His blood is still tainted by his line. And if he still sails under a Fire Nation flag after all that he endured, it just proves that there is nothing redeemable in him anymore. Prepare the men for battle."

"...Yes, sir."

* * *

"Are they taking the bait, Uncle?" Zuko knew that Shuang was watching him. But he couldn't see out of the corner of his left eye to discern what the other ship was doing, and if he turned to look straight at it, the traitor would know that it was a trap.

Iroh glanced to one side. "It would seem that they are."

"Tell the helmsman to take us in the direction of the minefield. We have to hold them off until it gets dark... and not lose them before then." All of this would be for nothing if Shuang just looked down into the water and saw a forest of mines beneath him. They had to wait until it was too dark to see properly. They had purposefully left two hours' distance between their current position and the mine field. The two ships had come within viewing distance at just the right moment. And even if all that worked out, Zuko hoped that Shuang would be secure enough in his ship's capabilities to pursue a nighttime attack.

Too much depended on ifs and hopes. If this failed... Zuko didn't know what he would do. It had taken him long enough to come up with the idea.

He felt the ship turn slightly and take off in the direction of the minefield, picking up pace steadily, but not too quickly. They needed Shuang to follow.

Unable to resist any longer, Zuko looked back at the enemy ship. It was definitely on their tail.

"That's it," he muttered. "Keep following."

The next two hours were tense as the sun sank lower and lower until it was just a faint glow in the west, too dim to penetrate the velvety darkness that had settled over the world. The sea was no longer so clear as it had been earlier—good. Not much longer now.

Zuko went to the bridge for a report.

"We're almost to the minefield," Lieutenant Jee said. "Everything should work out fine, as long as he doesn't start launching things at us. If he hit one of the mines..." He didn't need to finish that sentence. Everyone knew what would happen then.

A few minutes passed in thick silence. Then—

"We're in the minefield," said the helmsman. A bead of sweat dripped down his temple. Zuko held his breath. Carefully, following the path outlined on his chart, the helmsman steered the ship out of the minefield and into safe waters. A collective sigh escaped from the men on the bridge. Now to wait for Shuang to catch up and steer right into his own destruction.

It never happened.

They calculated the time it took since Shuang entered the minefield. One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. It should have happened by now.

Zuko's eyes widened. Slowly, he looked across the bridge at Lieutenant Jee, who looked just as shocked as he felt.

"He made it through," Zuko said quietly.

* * *

"Always just barely out of reach." Shuang frowned. "I feel like he's mocking me. Zhu, have the trebuchet crews remain on alert. We'll catch him eventually."

The dark silhouette of the prince's ship, illuminated by dull red lights, suddenly turned, headed further out to sea, and then turned back again so it was headed back in their direction. "What is he doing? Helmsman, hard right. Cut him off." Could the prince really be trying _that_ maneuver? Against a ship with several times the firepower? Shuang shook his head and smiled slightly. This was going to be almost too easy.

Steel creaked as the Terrier made a sharp turn, metal groaning against the ship's weight and the water's resistance. They turned again, this time going in the opposite direction that they had come. Get in his way, force him to slow down, and then release the trebuchets. Simply a perfect—

A roar, a fiery geyser, and the ship shook as if it had crashed into a cliff at full speed.

The explosion threw all the men on the bridge to their hands and knees. Shuang picked himself up off the floor, ran down the stairs, and out onto the deck. The side of the ship looked like it had a giant bite taken out of it. One trebuchet had toppled in the blast.

"Mines!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Helmsman! Turn back! Our original course was safe!" All around him, soldiers were running, debris was burning, and the steady rush of water could be heard slowly filling the hold.

The ship turned. Another blast rocked the damaged ship, this time near the stern.

It was over.

* * *

"He hit one!" Zuko exclaimed. The crew waited with bated breath—they were in range now. The Terrier was damaged, but still deadly.

Instead of a trebuchet shot, they got another explosion as the ship ran into another mine.

With two huge holes blown in it, the ship started to go down faster than any of them thought possible. Even at this distance, they saw men piling into lifeboats, desperately trying to escape both the sinking ship and inevitable capture.

The burning ruin of the Terrier groaned as the hull hit the sea floor. As Zuko's ship approached, it became apparent that the deck remained only a scant few inches above the water level, and that one of the tall trebuchets had fallen completely. The other was unmanned, unloaded, and effectively useless. One man stood in the middle of the deck, looking only slightly annoyed, strange considering he had just lost his ship and crew to an inanimate enemy.

He spoke once Zuko's ship was within comfortable talking distance.

"Interesting tactic, Highness," Shuang the Traitor said sarcastically, arms crossed over his chest.

"Thank you," Zuko replied, trying to load as much scorn as he possibly could into those two words.

"Blasting jelly?"

"Obviously."

"I know you're here to arrest me, or kill me, whichever," Shuang said, in a tone more suited to a particularly riveting game of pai sho than to a game of exploding ships. "I'll go quietly, on one condition."

Zuko raised his eyebrow. "Oh?"

"What's left of my crew? Let them escape. Tell Commander Wei whatever you want. Say they all drowned."

Zuko took a moment to consider his words. Commander Wei had said to do whatever was the most convenient and practical regarding the crew. And having Shuang go quietly would be much less stressful than the alternative.

He nodded once. Shuang gave a grim smile.

"Excellent. I knew you of all people would be opposed to any unnecessary casualties."

Zuko frowned, turned on his heel, and left the scene. Lieutenant Jee could handle it from there.

* * *

Back in New Azulon, Shuang walked off the ship as peacefully as you please, head held high. He knew what was in store for him. He had accepted it the day he had turned on the Fire Nation. Commander Wei was waiting at the pier with a squad of masked firebenders.

"All these guards, just for me? I'm flattered by the compliment, Commander Wei."

Wei ignored this comment and instead had the firebenders escort Shuang to the stockade on top of a nearby hill.

"I offer you thanks on behalf of the Fire Navy," he said, not just to Zuko but to the other handful of crew members that had gathered around. "Your debt is repaid. Although..." he frowned slightly. "I would have been very pleased to have even _one_ member of his crew for questioning."

"They drowned," Zuko said a little too quickly. "All of them. Very tragic."

"Uh-huh." Wei's eyes flicked briefly to Zuko's scar—the prince's scalp prickled slightly, just as it had done when Shuang had said...

They knew. Both of them did. Zuko could tell.

"Anyway, that's unimportant," Wei said. "In the future, should you need anything, come back to New Azulon."

"I will. Thank you, Commander Wei."

"Thank _you_."

That night, the commander invited Zuko and Iroh to dine with him again. And this time, Zuko accepted.


	17. The Chili Plant

"I think, my nephew, that you would benefit greatly from learning how to avoid being seen when the situation requires it."

"I'm not interested in learning how to skulk around like a coward."

"When you put it that way, of course it sounds unappealing. But sometimes it is not always wise to charge in and face your enemies head-on, at least, not at first. Sometimes there are reasons to use stealth—to gather information, to find what advantages you can get before a direct confrontation happens..."

"It's not sportsmanlike," Zuko insisted, frowning. "Not honorable." He was above using such tactics.

"Prince Zuko, your defeat of Shuang was assured in this way, but at sea. That was hardly dishonorable—it was resourceful, and very effective. You took advantage of everything you could, and defeated him through imaginative means. There was no head-to-head fight. If there was, I think we would not be having this conversation." Calmly, Uncle inhaled the scent of his ginseng tea, smiled, and took a sip. Zuko considered this, absently picking at a grain of rice stuck to the side of his bowl. Finally, he shrugged.

"I think you would _enjoy_ learning this art. It uses skills that you have already developed, and a few more that you have not." As he said this, Iroh gave the prince a shrewd look, trying to figure out what was behind his frown.

"...Whatever, Uncle."

"Will you let me teach you?"

"Sure."

For a moment, Zuko was certain that his uncle would explode with glee. But it only lasted for a second, and then he returned to his usual calm state. Zuko sighed. If he at least went along with it once, maybe Uncle would give up afterwards. He still wasn't especially excited about the prospect of learning how to sneak around like someone who had something to hide.

* * *

"Hide in plain sight," was Uncle's first lesson. "If you stand out, you will be noticed. It is better to blend in than to actually _hide_. It is easier for your enemy to find you if you are actively _trying_. There is a certain refuge in audacity, my nephew. Your enemy will naturally suspect your intentions if he sees you darting around in the shadows or hears nervous breathing coming from dark alcoves. But if you walk right up to him and greet him, he has no reason to suspect you."

"This wouldn't work if he's already my enemy and he knows who I am," Zuko said.

"You might be surprised how easy it is to trick someone right under his own nose. It throws him off his guard, because he is _expecting_ you to act shifty."

Zuko raised his eyebrow. Maybe there was something to this sneaking business after all.

"Of course," Uncle continued, "It is better to not talk to him at all if you can help it. The most effective disguise is that of anonymity. Instead of disguising yourself to look like another individual, it is much better to look like someone who cannot be picked out of a crowd. An ordinary soldier, or a random civilian. Even a servant, if necessary. Someone who would be invisible to your enemy."

Zuko didn't feel like this would be possible. He just knew he stuck out like a sore thumb anywhere he went—his scar and hair easily identified him, and on top of that, he'd grown another couple of inches in the past few months, and his mind was still trying to catch up with his body. He could barely walk ten steps without tripping over his own feet. He was ugly and ungainly. He was sure he drew stares wherever he was.

"This also may not be as hard as you think it is," Iroh said. He knew what Zuko was thinking. As usual. That was always the case, even when Zuko didn't want him to know. "People are funny, Prince Zuko. They will remember a person's clothes, but not his face. They are so stuck on status that they can't pick out the same person when he is wearing something different."

"Whatever."

"I am completely serious. Your first assignment, based on what I have told you, is to bring me Yuu's red chili plants."

"But they're the prize of his kitchen. I swear he sleeps with the pot next to his pillow."

"Which is why you will need to apply these lessons." Iroh smiled. "Refuge in audacity. Remember that. Now, if you will excuse me, I am due for a game of pai sho. You should join us."

"I'll pass."

The more Zuko thought about his assignment, the more likely it seemed that he would end up on the wrong end of a carving knife. As far as he knew, the cook was always within reaching distance of his stupid, beloved red chiles. They were the only things, besides a few pots of medicinal herbs and one of basil, that grew on the ship, and he had won the seeds in a game of "whose eel-shark soup is better" with another cook back when they had stopped near the Eastern Air Temple. (Apparently it was a rare breed, or something. Zuko hadn't known that chiles came in varieties other than "red", "green", "hot", and "mild".) Yuu was even known to carry the pot around with him if he had to leave the galley for whatever reason.

But Zuko was not one to back down from a challenge. Iroh had asked him for the chiles, and Zuko would get them. To refuse would make him a coward.

* * *

 _Audacity_...

Zuko thought about what he could possibly do. He couldn't very well disguise himself as another soldier, since they all lived on the same ship and he would be recognized no matter what he wore, not to mention Yuu would probably shank whoever touched his precious peppers: prince, soldier, or otherwise.

The most audacious thing he could think of was to just stroll into the galley and walk off with the plant.

"Well, it's worth a try," he muttered to himself as he stalked down the narrow hallway and down the stairs.

He followed the smell of spicy kimchee to the galley. Peering in the open door, he could see the chili plant perched on the counter next to the stove, looking very distinctive in a green ceramic pot. It was laden with long, sharp red chili pods. Just walk in... and take it.

No sooner had Zuko stepped into the galley than he noticed something strange—five men, including Yuu and Lieutenant Jee, were all crouched around the cupboard on the far side of the stove. He walked over and peered over their shoulders to see Tetsu lurking in the cupboard, glaring up at the humans with baleful yellow eyes. Nestled next to her on an empty flour sack were four tiny kittens: two black, one calico, and one gray tabby.

"Tetsu had kittens? And she hasn't _eaten_ them?"

"She hasn't eaten them _yet_ , sir," Lieutenant Jee said darkly. "They look like they're only about a week old. There's still plenty of time for that." Tetsu looked right at him and licked the nearest kitten's head a few times.

 _She's probably training them to be her little minions_ , Zuko thought. _They're only cute until they bite off your nose..._

Eventually, the novelty of kittens that they could only touch at the cost of their fingers wore off and all of them dispersed to continue their various duties. Zuko left the galley with the others, but had forgotten why he had gone there in the first place.

It wasn't until later that afternoon, when he crossed paths with Uncle again, that he remembered.

"Dammit," he said under his breath.

"Is something wrong, Prince Zuko?"

"I forgot to get that chili plant. I went to the galley and everything, but I got distracted."

"Oh? By what?"

"Kittens." Zuko scowled. Uncle raised an eyebrow and gave him a knowing, sideways smile. "Why are you looking at me like that, Uncle?"

"Oh, no reason."

"Besides, several of the men were in there looking at them too."

"I wonder that you didn't think to use the kittens as the perfect distraction for you to get the plant. It seems like a bit of a shame. No one would have noticed you while they were preoccupied by small, fluffy creatures."

"... _Damn_."

"It would seem, my nephew, that kittens are universally distracting."

"Ugh." Zuko rubbed his forehead. "I'm going to go work out. I'll figure something out eventually."

* * *

Zuko loitered around the galley for the next few weeks, trying to find a pattern of when Yuu left for long enough that he could run in and grab the plant. But he never left for more than a minute or so, not long enough for him to take the plant and then get far enough away so that Yuu wouldn't catch him red-handed. And just as he had suspected, Yuu took the plant with him if he needed to leave for an extended period of time.

Simply astounding. It was a damn _plant_. It's not like it was going to walk off if he let it out of his sight.

Well, of course Zuko was planning on borrowing it, but _Yuu_ didn't know that. Hopefully.

While Zuko tried to come up with a plan, Iroh continually gave him new lessons, but never suggested ways in which they could be used to get the chili plant.

"Think about what you do when you walk into a room. Where do you look? Where _don't_ you look? What do you expect to see?"

This lesson led to Zuko clinging to the ceiling of the bridge, muscles screaming and eventually just going numb as he hung there for a good forty-five minutes. He forced himself to breathe quietly and not pay attention to the protests of his arm and stomach muscles, and to keep the metal pipes from making a single sound. His fists gripped a pipe above his head, and his ankles were anchored to another that was parallel to the door. For almost an hour he stayed quiet, watching men come and go, listening to snatches of their conversations. Tetsu padded silently across the floor, carrying a kitten in her mouth.

As an hour passed, and he realized he was in trouble. The bridge still had people on it, and it didn't look like they were going anywhere any time soon. He couldn't just drop down as he would if he was alone—they would see him, a scenario which just sounded uncomfortable no matter how it played out in his head. He imagined awkward questions about why he was clinging to the ceiling in the first place, followed by his men glancing at the ceiling whenever they entered a room just to make sure he wasn't lurking around up there.

He couldn't get down. But he couldn't keep hanging like this—sooner or later his muscles would give out and he would fall to the floor in an undignified heap.

Maybe if he waited until their backs were turned and then got down _really_ quietly. Yeah, that might work.

A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead and dripped off his nose. Slowly, he unhooked his ankles from their pipe and swung forward, knees curled up to his chest. There was a slight metallic creak—not loud enough to be picked out from the ambient noises of the ship. Hopefully. Very carefully, he extended his legs and dropped as quietly as he could, landing on his toes and straightening up.

Feeling absurdly proud of himself, he walked over to where Jee and the helmsman were talking.

"When will we make port?" he asked.

"At this rate, it should be about three weeks," said the helmsman.

"Good." Zuko left the bridge, at this point wanting nothing more than to lie down. He ached all over from hanging for so long.

As soon as he left, Jee and the helmsman, no longer able to keep it in, burst out laughing.

* * *

It didn't take long for Zuko to find out that he had been spotted that day on the bridge. He put on a show of being indignant, but inside he was pleased. Since then, he had hung from various ceilings all around the ship five more times, and hadn't been seen. At least, no one talked about seeing him any of those times. He decided to take that as a good sign.

He took it as such a good sign that soon he found himself clinging to the low galley ceiling, a sack tied around his waist, waiting for Yuu to step out to the storeroom for some dried noodles or preserved meat.

The portly cook walked out of sight, muttering about bean filling for steamed dumplings. Zuko had checked out the storeroom ahead of time—the beans were in the very back, but he still had to be quick. Silently, he dropped down from the ceiling, grabbed the chili plant, and stashed it in the sack. Heart pounding, he darted out the open door and ran up the stairs until he got to the safety of his room.

He made sure the door was firmly shut before he took the plant out of the sack and set it on the table.

"I finally have you," he said to the unassuming potted shrub. "...Now what do I do?"

He was still sitting at the table, chin in his hand, staring at the fruit of his labors when Iroh came in later with oolong tea.

"I have the plant. Now what?"

Iroh did not respond until the tea was finished brewing and he had poured two cups. He was using his favorite silver teapot and jade cups with white lotus blossoms carved into the sides.

"Now," he said at last, "you must take the plant back. Return it to Yuu without him knowing who took it."

"Wait—you wanted me to take the plant just so I could return it again?"

"Of course. Why else would I want you to take it?"

"For a _reason_!"

"This is a reason. It is meant to teach you something." Uncle smiled. "Besides, it is not your plant. You must return it to its owner."

"This is ridiculous!"

"But didn't you learn something? You got very good at hiding on the ceiling."

"...How did you know about that?" Everyone knew about the first time he had tried it—the men hadn't yet gotten tired of that joke. But he thought he had been discreet after that.

"When you get to be my age, my nephew, not much will escape your notice." Iroh sipped his tea. "I know you will think of something. You might want to hurry, though. The plant has already been missed."

Zuko rolled his eyes. Of course it had.

* * *

The effort of snatching the chili plant in the first place had worn Zuko out. He dozed off for a few minutes on his futon, sitting up and leaning against the wall. No more ceilings. Ever. He didn't think his arms would be the same ever again.

He woke up to a small knot of warmth on his leg. Blinking groggily, he realized that it was one of the black kittens, curled up and purring like a tiny motor.

"How did you get in here?" he mumbled.

The kitten continued to purr in response.

Zuko sighed and tried to shift his legs as carefully as possible to avoid disturbing it. The kitten stretched and dug its tiny claws into his thigh, still purring. Absently, he stroked it between the ears while trying to think of a way to get the plant back to the galley.

 _Maybe if I got a long piece of rope_...

The kitten poked its little pink tongue out and gave Zuko's fingers a gentle lick.

 _What if I just left the plant and ran?_

The kitten curled up on his leg and yawned widely.

 _This is so dumb. The most pointless_...

He stopped stroking for a moment. The realization hit him like a barrel of salt pork. What Uncle had said that one afternoon...

 _"It would seem, my nephew, that kittens are universally distracting."_

Zuko picked the kitten up by the scruff of its neck. It immediately curled into a ball, an expression that looked like a contented smile on its tiny mouth. "Hey," he said. "Do you want to help me with something?"

It just purred.

* * *

Yuu was at his wits' end. His prized Golden Fire Dragon Chili plant was missing, nowhere to be found.

Where could it have gone? Potted plants didn't simply walk off, and he was certain that no one on this ship had any reason to steal it. The seeds were valuable, certainly, but they weren't even ripe yet, something that no one but him would know. Not to mention the thief would have no idea how much to water it, how to prune the little warty buds that grew on the ends of the pods, how to trim the leaves... all the things that were absolutely necessary.

Unthinkable. To steal such a valuable, high-maintenance plant.

Well, he would find the culprit soon enough. It was a small ship, and he knew the look of the guilty.

The cook sighed and returned to the galley. Maybe he just misplaced it. It would turn up soon.

He got to work cutting up pickled fish for tonight's soup, when he noticed a tiny black kitten toddling along the counter, mewing in a high, plaintive voice.

"Hello there, little one," Yuu said. He cut off the tiniest morsel of fish and held it out for the creature to sniff. "I don't suppose you have seen my rare chili plant, have you?" The kitten purred and rubbed its head against his hand. "I didn't think so. You're a little far from home, aren't you." He picked the kitten up and returned it to the cupboard next to the stove, where its siblings were sleeping in a little bundle while their mother hunted.

When he straightened up, his Golden Fire Dragon Chili plant was on the counter.


	18. Friends

Zuko braced his hands on the map spread out before him on the pai sho table. The little black kitten, his partner in crime, had curled up over Ba Sing Se, delicate tail swishing back and forth across the Serpent's Pass.

"It's settled, then," he said. "We'll spend the rest of the year hunting Earth Kingdom pirates along the southern and western coasts, here. We'll pass the winter and keep hunting in Chameleon Bay, and go from there once the spring thaw sets in." He was _not_ going to make the same mistake he made last winter. He needed to get the ship somewhere safe and warm before the temperature started to drop.

"What about the Avatar, Prince Zuko?" Uncle set his teacup down on the Northern Water Tribe.

"We'll keep looking for him while we hunt for pirates." At this, Iroh gave him a shrewd look that Zuko couldn't quite decipher. He frowned and looked back at the map. "I'll find him, Uncle. I just need to keep the ship out of the ice this winter."

Iroh nodded. "Very good. I was just thinking that you have yet to visit the Southern Air Temple."

"I know."

The Southern Air Temple. The destination that Zuko had been dreading for a long time. Its exact location was common knowledge these days, but he wasn't quite sure how he would make it up to the temple itself. It was famously inaccessible, even more so than the northern temple. It was said that no one could reach it but by sky bison, but that wasn't true—it had been attacked on the day of the Comet, just like all the others. Uncle, strangely, skirted the issue when asked about it, so Zuko had asked Lieutenant Jee how the temple had been attacked.

 _Dragons_ was his only answer. _Some of the last ones_. Or rather, it was the most popular rumor that had spread throughout the military. No one knew for sure. Some said that the power of the Comet had given a few powerful firebenders the ability to fly, but that just sounded outlandish. Others said that Sozin's armies had tamed themselves some sky bison and used them to fly to the temple.

Well, whatever the means used by the Fire Nation, the temple's airbenders were all dead. Just like the rest.

"Someday," Zuko said finally. "I'll figure a way to get up the mountain and I'll go to the Southern Air Temple. Just not now." He ran a finger over the southern island that housed the temple. It was covered in little ink mountain peaks, the temple marked with the symbol of the Air Nomads. The kitten unwound herself, stretched, and walked across the sea. She settled down next to Zuko's hand and started to vigorously groom it with her little sandpaper tongue.

"I'm glad. Hunting pirates is an admirable pursuit."

"And hunting the Avatar isn't?"

"I did not say that, Prince Zuko. But the number of innocent people who are attacked by pirates every day makes hunting them an admirable pursuit. Certainly more admirable than wasting one's time and energy in port."

"The less time I spend in port, the better."

"Oh?"

Zuko knew that his uncle wanted an explanation, but he didn't offer one. The truth was that he had begun to hate being on land. Before, it had been a mere annoyance, something to be endured for short spaces of time, and maybe to be enjoyed for the abundance of fresh food and non-ocean scenery. But now he absolutely could not stand the feel of solid ground beneath his boots or the press of people all around him in the marketplaces.

His ship was his home. It was his sanctuary. No one besides Uncle knew why he had been banished, and no one asked. No one stared at him—the novelty of his scar had worn off almost completely to the crew. On the ship, his walls were intact, and no one tried to break through them. He was comfortable on the ship.

Mostly.

There was still the nagging urgency of his quest, the constant reminder of his disgrace. If he had not lost his honor, he'd be back in the Fire Nation, living in the palace, without a care in the world. Living on his ship made it impossible to escape the reality of what he had done and what he had to do to fix it.

There was no question, though—given the choice between living on his ship and being on land, he would choose the former without hesitation.

"We can cover more distance if we're always moving," Zuko explained at last. Iroh gave no indication that he believed otherwise.

"Well, we should reach port any day now. After resupplying, we should be ready to hunt pirates to our hearts' content." Iroh smiled as the kitten ambled across the table to sniff his teacup. He patted her on the head. "Of course, since this is a dangerous endeavor, you may want to consider hiring a doctor. The prize money should be more than enough to offset the cost, assuming we capture enough ships."

Zuko nodded and quickly shut down his inner quartermaster, who was already starting to complain about the cost. This time he would rather be safe than sorry, especially because it seemed like he got hurt ridiculously often. The less they had to rush into port for medical attention, the better.

There was much to do before they set off on the hunt, and, unfortunately, much to buy, but Zuko was certain that the rewards would be worth it.

* * *

Zuko thought that his uncle's level of excitement upon seeing the posters hung up everywhere in town was entirely inappropriate. Apparently the Fire Nation Circus was doing a tour of the colonies, something that had never interested him even as a kid. He knew how the animals were treated when they weren't performing, and quite frankly, he hated clowns. Both were things he had no desire to perpetuate. Besides, he had too much to do for their voyage to indulge in any kind of entertainment. The annoyance that came from being on shore was already starting to creep up on him. He had to do everything he could to keep it off his mind.

He put in an order at the dockside supply depot and headed to one of the taverns while he waited for it to be filled and delivered to the ship. He wasn't there to drink—he was there to hear about pirates. Even so, he nursed a glass of sake while he listened to an extremely inebriated sailor rant about filthy Earth Kingdom pirates working the seas a little further south.

Good. There would be much to do, in that case.

Earth Kingdom pirate ships were smaller, lighter, more maneuverable, and faster in close quarters than Fire Nation ships were, as his red-faced but surprisingly helpful companion informed him. The trick was not totally destroying them with a single catapult shot, but rather capturing the ship and its crew in one piece. Because their ships did not have catapults, the pirates themselves were really good at climbing right onto Fire Nation ships' decks and making a mess of the crew.

"You shee, they ain't bendersh," the sailor said. "We attack 'em a lot, sho they train to fight firebenders. Sho they're really, really, really good at fightin' 'em. You'll—hic—always win unlesh they get closhe enough to yer crew."

 _Don't let them touch the crew, but don't hit them with catapult shots. I don't get it,_ Zuko thought. _I guess I had it coming for talking to a drunk guy_. He drained his cup, left a coin on the bar, and departed, feeling pleasantly warm from the alcohol in him. It made being on land a little less unbearable.

His order at the depot was still being filled, so he decided to wander around aimlessly in town and do small errands until it was done. Maybe he would find some interesting books or scrolls. And a few new shirts wouldn't be a bad idea, since the seams in the shoulders of the ones he already had could only be let out so far. Tetsu's kittens would have to be rounded up and sent to the government animal shelter as well—one cat was all they needed. Any more would just get underfoot at inopportune times.

Zuko was jolted out of his thoughts when he felt someone squeal in a high-pitched voice and hug him tight around the middle.

"ZUKO!"

Too startled to move, he looked down and saw someone so achingly familiar that his mouth dropped open.

"...Ty Lee?"

She looked more cheerful than anyone had any right to be these days, with her huge, shining eyes and a smile so wide that it almost hurt to look at. She wore a wildly inappropriate and very pink getup that was more suited to some kind of dance club than to the daughter of a high-ranking nobleman.

"It's so good to see you! Where have you been? Looking for the Avatar, right? Have you had any progress? Are you going to see the circus? How is your uncle? He's traveling with you, right?"

Zuko's mind was still stuck on "Ty Lee is standing right in front of me." He blinked a few times, finally managed to close his mouth, and thought of something to say. Nothing came to mind. He had never considered the possibility of seeing anyone from home ever again—or at least a very long time—especially not someone who had been Azula's faithful companion for as long as he could remember. Real terror suddenly gripped his insides—what if Azula was here? Why would Azula be in this little backwater colony?

"Is Azula here?" he blurted.

"Nope!"

"Then... why..."

"I ran away and joined the circus!" She immediately went into a backbend, lifted her legs over her head, and grinned up at him, bending her neck in a way that looked extremely uncomfortable.

"You... what?"

"I joined the circus! And my aura has never been pinker!"

"Uh..."

Ty Lee did an effortless flip, landed on one foot, and then looked very serious all of a sudden. "But _your_ aura is all... black and twisted." It might have been the beginning of an actual conversation, had she not tucked her leg behind her head as she said it.

"I guess that's what happens when you get banished," Zuko was eventually able to choke out. His aura certainly _felt_ black and twisted most of the time. At least, it probably would if he knew what his aura felt like.

This meeting and the thoughts going through his head were just getting weirder and weirder. He had half a mind to go back to the tavern and demand to know what the bartender put in his sake.

Ty Lee removed her leg from behind her head. "It's really good to see you, Zuko," she said at last, sounding a little less perky than she had before, for which Zuko was grateful. He didn't think he could handle much more of that. "We thought we would hear _something_ about what you've been doing all this time, but it's like you've been _dead_! How are you? Have you been having a lot of adventures? I want to know everything!"

Zuko rubbed his forehead. Part of him thought that she was being inexcusably flippant about the whole thing, but the rest was willing to let it go because it was Ty Lee. She had always been that way—loud, visible, unsubtle and utterly tactless, but always sincere and strangely endearing. Another part of him was still unsure whether he was really having this conversation or if he was sick in bed and this was some kind of elaborate fever-dream that his mind had cooked up.

"Look, can we not talk about this right in the middle of the street?"

The daily lives of the town's residents still continued all around them. Carts creaked up and down the road, vendors advertised their wares, and children and animals milled around in the dust. Ty Lee looked around, seemingly bewildered as to why Zuko wouldn't want to talk in public, but smiled a huge, shiny grin.

"Okay! Come with me!" She tried to grab him by the wrist, which he managed to dodge, and led him through the streets and between buildings until they were on the outskirts of town, near the fairgrounds. A veritable village of garish tents were set up, with a huge, beribboned red one in the center. "This is where I live now!" She cartwheeled over to a tent that was just as pink and bubbly as she was.

Inside, the tent was filled with some kind of ghastly sweet incense that Zuko was sure would earn him plenty of snickers once he returned to the ship with it lingering in his clothes and hair. After all, sometimes his men came back from leave with a similar scent hovering around them, and they _definitely_ didn't get it from visiting old circus-freak friends. Also, everything was pink. And if it wasn't pink, it was sparkly or floral. She had a portable wardrobe filled with costumes and jewelry, all of which were decked with huge fake gems.

Definitely Ty Lee. Nothing had changed.

She indicated a huge, squishy pink cushion. "Go ahead, sit down!" It turned out that the cushion wasn't very big at all—just puffy. When he sank into it, he ended up with his knees under his chin. He felt ridiculous. Ty Lee sat down nearby in a similar cushion and smiled intently at him. "So, what _have_ you been doing?"

"Sailing around. Looking for stuff."

"Are you like a _pirate_?"

"No, Ty Lee, I am _not_ like a pirate."

"So you're in the navy now."

"Sure." He didn't feel like explaining the minutiae of what he was doing that separated it from the navy. Close enough.

Her mouth became a tiny O. "Do you have any tattoos?"

"No. I've been thinking about getting one, though."

" _Really_?"

"Yeah. They say that a sailor without tattoos is like a leopard-dog without spots." Which was true, even though he felt silly saying it out loud.

"What kind of tattoo do you want to get?"

"I don't know."

"You should get a skull with swords crossed behind it!" Zuko was certain he could see his reflection in her teeth. It had to be tiring, smiling that much.

"For the last time, I'm not a pirate." The smile wilted a little, and there was a brief silence between them. Anxious to shift the questions away from him, Zuko took a turn asking her one. "So... when did you run away? _Why_ did you run away?"

"A few months ago. They were looking for an acrobat, and I'm the best in the world!" To prove this, Ty Lee immediately jumped up and did a handstand. "I guess... I was tired of no one paying attention to me. But it's better here—everyone pays attention to me all the time!"

Zuko knew that this was probably true. Ty Lee would do almost anything to stand out from her sisters, including things that ended up being _really_ bad ideas, like the time she decided to wear a bright blue dress to an evening party at the palace. She was only ten at the time, but turned heads and inspired gossip for two full weeks. No one even knew _where_ she got a blue dress, and her parents had to try extra hard to prove that this was merely their daughter acting out and not a statement about their loyalty to the Fire Nation.

"Don't you miss anyone from home?"

"I guess so. Mai writes every once in a while. But I have lots of new friends here!" She did another flip and sat back down. "So, do _you_ miss anyone from home?" She gave him an unnervingly intense stare, as if she was staring right into his brain.

"Never mind that."

There was another long silence.

"She's gotten really pretty. And tall."

"I said _never mind_."

"You can't hide your emotions. You have to share them, otherwise it's bad for your digestion." At this, Zuko just rested his forehead in his hands and tried to think of an excuse to get out of here. This conversation was really wearing on him, and he just wanted to go back to the ship where he would be safe. He could read or meditate or practice until all of this was tucked back where it belonged, where he didn't have to deal with it. "Hey, Zuko? Why are you bald?"

"My head was shaved when I was banished."

"Why?"

"It means I'm in disgrace."

"Oh. You know, I think you'd look better with hair. It would help to hide your—"

"Look, I really don't want to talk about this right now, okay?" The words came out harsher than he had intended and Ty Lee's face crumpled. Zuko immediately regretted it—if there was anyone who could make him feel guilty, it was Ty Lee. Being mean to her, justified or not, was like kicking a puppy. He took a deep breath and flexed his fingers. "It's just a little weird, seeing you here. I was used to thinking that Uncle would be the only person from home that I'd ever see again."

"We haven't forgotten about you at home, Zuko." She touched his hand lightly. "Are you coming to see the show tonight?"

"No."

"Oh, that's right. You don't like clowns." Zuko winced and wondered if he was ever going to live that down. It was bad enough that he had such stupid insecurities in the first place, without other people knowing about them. "Will you come by later, then?"

"Maybe. I have a lot of things to do for the ship."

"Oooh. Can I come and see?"

"I don't think you'd want to. It's pretty boring. And my men will probably be drunk and... uh... over-friendly."

"Okay. I'll meet you in the square after I'm done performing?"

"All right. Sure." Why refuse? He couldn't think of a reason. It was just Ty Lee. She was about as intimidating as a kitten dipped in milk, and he knew she wouldn't use the opportunity to make fun of him or to gather information for Azula to make fun of him. Well, Azula would get information out of Ty Lee one way or another, but Ty Lee wouldn't tell her on purpose.

"Yay! I'm so happy!"

* * *

Zuko eventually managed to extricate himself from Ty Lee's company and make his way back to his ship. On the way, he thought about Ty Lee and exactly what they were to each other.

She was Azula's friend. Her faithful lapdog, in fact, which only made it stranger to think that she had voluntarily run away to do her own thing. Well... now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure "friend" was the right word. Ty Lee was terrified of Azula. True, she looked up to her and the two of them did seem to have some affection for each other, but it wasn't the kind of friendship that normal kids had, judging by Zuko's limited experience with such things. Besides, Ty Lee looked up to _everyone_. She was the youngest of all her sisters and younger than both Azula and Mai. She had always wanted a brother, so when she was younger she spent a lot of time following Zuko around and bothering him until he (and Mai) got upset and outright forced her to go away. She'd cry a little, make some kind of scene, and then be back to normal five minutes later.

He didn't know how anyone could be so bright and happy and innocent all the time, growing up in the royal court. He'd seen enough peasant kids over the last year and a half, running and laughing like they didn't have a care in the world, to know that either they were just ignorant, stupid folk that took longer to grow up or he'd gotten shortchanged out of a childhood. He preferred the former explanation and decided to stick to it.

Like most people, Zuko had thought for a long time that Ty Lee was stupid, plain and simple. But when he was thirteen and she was eleven, that misconception was blown completely out of the water.

He'd been feeling cocky, like nothing could get him down. He knew there was a war meeting in a few days. He wanted to go. Ty Lee advised him not to—she had said that sometimes she did things in order to get attention that ended badly, and none of them were as serious as this. He didn't want to listen. It wasn't for attention, he said. He wanted to learn as much as he could, because he'd be the Firelord someday.

Ty Lee had been right in the end. It took him months to realize it, that the annoying, bubbly little airhead had been right all along. He couldn't bring himself to be angry at her for it, though sometimes he wished he could. It was just impossible.

When it came down to it... they were friends. That was the closest explanation. They weren't terribly close, but she'd been around for as long as he could remember, and was always nice to him, no matter what cruel new game Azula got up to and forced her to participate in. Ty Lee didn't have an evil bone in her body.

Almost everyone was still out by the time Zuko got back to the ship. He felt like lying down for an hour or so (Ty Lee tended to have that effect on him), but Tetsu and her kittens had taken over his bed, so he took his swords below for some practice instead.

* * *

Later that evening, when the circus show was getting over and Zuko prepared to meet Ty Lee in town, he came across Sergeant Shogo and the helmsman trying to herd the kittens into a sack while the cook bravely kept Tetsu at bay with a long spoon. No one was happy about this, especially the cook who was uncomfortably close to a set of slashing claws, but it had to be done. They were heading into dangerous waters and they couldn't have five cats getting in the way during a battle. Not to mention they couldn't wait until the kittens were bigger and harder to eradicate, having been trained by their mother to hate all of humanity.

The little black kitten heroically resisted being coaxed into the bag with her litter-mates. As Zuko walked by, he scooped her up and carried her on his forearm into town.

Ty Lee was already in the square when he arrived, turning cartwheels and walking on her hands. She twirled over once she saw him coming.

"Yay, you're here!"

"Hi, Ty Lee. Are you allowed to have pets?" The kitten purred against his hand.

"What? I guess so. One of the jugglers has a parrot."

"Do you want to take care of this kitten? She's going to the animal shelter otherwise. And you know how depressing those places are." Chances were the kitten would be sold to a restaurant before long if she went to the shelter. There were always too many cats turning up at shelters, and not enough people who wanted to take them home.

"Ooooh, she's so cute!" Ty Lee cupped her hands, and Zuko gently transferred the kitten over to her. "Why do you have a kitten, anyway?"

"We have a rat-catcher on the ship who had babies a couple of months ago. We can't keep any of them."

"Oh, that's sad." She held the kitten close to her face and grinned when it purred in her ear. "She likes me already!" She tried to hug Zuko, but he quickly stepped to one side to avoid it. Once was more than enough.

* * *

The circus packed up and left the next day, bound for the province to the north, for which Zuko was grateful. They would be in port for a few more days, and he knew that if Ty Lee was staying as well, she would keep hunting him down and trying to spend time with him. Some small part of him enjoyed her company, but the greater part was just uncomfortable around anything or anyone who reminded him of his old life. He couldn't pretend like nothing had changed, because it had. Everything had changed. He wasn't the same person that he was before and people like Ty Lee couldn't keep pretending that he was.

Only one thing could bring it all back, and until he accomplished his quest, he was an outsider. Ty Lee seemed to willfully misunderstand that. He wasn't sure if he should be offended, because she took it so lightly, or reassured, because she didn't treat him differently because of his disgrace.

Well, at least his kitten was in good hands. After the others had been taken to the shelter, Tetsu wandered around the ship, meowing and peering into nooks and crannies, but her kittens were nowhere to be found. Zuko couldn't find it in himself to feel sorry for her, though he thought he probably should. He was reminded of the darkest time in his life, darker even than the day he had been banished. He had spent hours searching the palace from top to bottom, hoping that perhaps his own mother was hiding in the curtains or under a bed.

Eventually Tetsu stopped looking, just as Zuko had all those years ago. Sometimes things are so thoroughly gone that it's not even worth trying to find them.


	19. The Tattoo

The first watch after returning to the ship after a few days off was always the worst. It dragged on at least twice as long as usual, alternating between unbearable monotony and backbreaking labor when it really wasn't too different from the average watch. It was just that compared to the blissful freedom of shore leave—prize money in hand, a girl on each arm, and no irascible teenage commander in sight—nothing was worse than being reminded of reality. Especially when said prize money had disappeared into the pockets of whores and bartenders and said irascible teenage commander seemed to be acting weirder than usual.

"Define 'weirder than usual,'" Liu, unimpressed, said into his mug. The rest of the watch, fresh from duty, also nursed drinks at the same table in the deserted mess.

"He went ashore this morning, nothing unusual about him," Yang began in a tired monotone. "You know how he walks, like he's going to do something really important, even when he's just gone off to take a piss or whatever."

A chorus of vague agreements rose from the assembled men. Prince Zuko definitely had an arrogantly obnoxious way of carrying himself—it couldn't have been something inherent to royalty, since General Iroh had no such mannerisms. Whatever the cause of it, though, the prince had it _bad_.

"Anyway," Yang said. "He comes back this afternoon, just before we left port, and he's looking all shifty, like he's trying to hide something. The General says hello and he about jumps a foot in the air."

"So he's a jumpy little bastard. That's nothing new," muttered Piao, a mechanic.

"Not like this. He's hiding something, and he'll get more and more annoying over it until the secret comes out, one way or another."

There was no keeping secrets on a ship this size, not on a voyage as long as this one—which, as far as anyone could tell, was as long as any voyage could get. They were stuck out here until the Avatar was found. While they were at it, maybe they could find three dragons and a Yeti.

"Eh, seen it before," Liu said, still unmoved. "He probably went to the doctor and found out he has the clap, or something."

"One problem with that. This is _Zuko_ we're talking about." Yang refilled his mug and took a long drink.

"And?"

"Do you think he's _ever_ gotten laid?"

"I guess not..."

"Yeah. Didn't think so."

"Maybe he spotted Captain Zhao's ship?" Guang spoke up.

"Nah. We'd all know about it."

"Well, I'm not making any more guesses until I see this so-called 'weirder than usual' myself," Liu said. "Piao's explanation makes the most sense. He's just naturally weird. And unless it affects me, I don't care what he does."

"That's it, though. It probably will affect us," Yang said. "You've been in for what, fifteen years? Don't tell me you never had a commander with some kind of irritating quirk that ended with you having to find left-handed screwdrivers and cans of striped paint—and he was _serious_ , every single time." Silence greeted his words. He looked around at the others and frowned. "Just me? Okay. Whatever." He took an extra-deep gulp of his drink.

"Until that actually happens, I'll be doing what I've been doing for the past year and a half," Liu said. "Ignoring it and getting by as best as I can."

 _That_ was something they could all drink to.

* * *

"Weirder than usual? I wonder what that looks like," Yuu said when Bei, the other mechanic, relayed the news to him, as repeated by Piao while the two of them worked on a grime-clogged mess that had once been the spare seawater intake valve.

When they'd done all they could on it for the day, Bei had gone to the galley with his toolbox. There were a lot of things to fix in the galley—more than were actually broken, in fact, but Bei was always willing to go see what Yuu needed. And Yuu was always happy to give him new things to fix.

"That's what Liu and Piao said." Bei made a show of tightening the bolts on the back of the stove. "I didn't believe it either, but I saw him creeping around the bridge earlier—there's definitely something different."

"How?"

"I don't know... he's got a new secret, that's for sure. And whatever it is ain't going to stay secret if he keeps acting like this."

Noodle soup with seaweed, breakfast for the morning watch, bubbled in a large pot. Yuu's firebending, as learned from his family (also cooks, every last one of them), had been developed not as a martial art but as something more subtle: a tool to perfectly cook every kind of food imaginable. The portly cook crouched down and stirred the flames with a practiced hand until the leaping tongues darkened and settled down and the soup in the pot calmed to a simmer.

"Unless it's going to affect me, I don't care what new twitch he's got." Yuu turned to gathering up the inedible bits from the soup and putting them into a bowl with similar scraps from the past few meals, and Bei started "inspecting" the hinges on each of the cabinet doors. He oiled each one, even the ones that weren't squeaky. "This isn't a bad job. I won't ruin it by complaining, and I won't let him ruin the parts that I do enjoy." Above all, he was beyond honored to cook for General Iroh, who must have tasted innumerable delicacies during his decades as the Crown Prince, yet praised Yuu's simple cooking on a daily basis. Zuko was easy enough to ignore.

Bei nodded. "Yeah, everything's still holding together. I figure we're only in trouble when Lieutenant Jee loses his temper."

Yuu's face grew very solemn at the prospect of _that_ happening. He took the bowl of scraps to the coop that Bei had rigged a while back. The half-dozen duckens inside immediately perked up and swarmed the door, quacking and clucking up a storm, when he approached. While they were distracted with the bowl of food, the cook raided their nests and came back to the counter with five creamy, brown-speckled eggs.

"I don't think that will happen. Unless Prince Zuko's problem will somehow put the ship in danger."

"It could..."

"No. I don't think so. It's just his own problem. And I don't care what it is." He dipped a spoon into the soup pot and tasted it. "Mm. Soup's ready."

* * *

Word had spread quickly. The mess was abuzz with theories as to what was wrong with the prince. Somehow every man was convinced that his personal explanation, each more outlandish than the last, was correct.

"You're all wrong," Lieutenant Jee said shortly. The rest of the watch quieted down—those were the first words he had said that morning, delivered over his third cup of tea and accompanied by his characteristic glower. He was respected by the crew, but infamously un-firebender-like in a few regards: he was even-tempered, he preferred cool weather, and he was _not_ a morning person. The fact that he was saying anything at all before he'd had at least two more cups of tea made everyone listen to him.

"Sir?"

"If it was any of the more probable options that you suggested—seeing Captain Zhao, hearing news about the Avatar, or getting into a duel, for instance—he'd be all over the ship, making sure everyone knew exactly what happened." He drained his cup and poured another one.

"Yes! That's what I keep saying! Yang too, he said that—"

" _Quiet_." Jee pinched the bridge of his nose. He had a feeling that today would be nothing but one big headache. Between Prince Zuko "acting weird" and the rest of the crew having to be retrained into proper sailors after a few days of unchecked debauchery... sometimes he really hated his job. Well, it was better than being shipped off to the front lines, closed in by land on all sides and sandwiched between earthbenders in the east _and_ west.

The rest of the watch mercifully shut up for a few precious minutes. And then...

"Sir? What do _you_ think's wrong with him?"

 _Uh..._ _everything?_

"I thought it was obvious. He got a tattoo."

They all stared at him like wide-mouthed fish. Their stunned silence quickly broke into hearty laughter.

"No. No way he'd be acting so jumpy about something like that."

"Yeah, it's just a tattoo, am I right?"

Jee poured a fifth cup of tea and patiently waited for the laughter to die down. He wasn't going to raise his voice this early in the morning over something that wasn't worth yelling about.

"His uncle would consider it low-class," he explained once the noise subsided. "As would the rest of his family back in the Fire Nation, I suspect. And most of the nobles he would associate with. He probably thought it was a good idea at the time, but is regretting it now that he realized he's going to have to find a way to hide it for the rest of his life."

He'd seen it countless times before, at the Academy. That was _years_ ago, but he couldn't imagine that much had changed since then—nobles were still nobles, midshipmen were still midshipmen, and sailors of all stripes still carved designs into themselves like it was going out of style.

"But sir—how can you _tell_?"

"It happened all the time at the Academy," he explained patiently. "When a boy from a commoner family got his first tattoo, he showed all of his friends and everyone else in the vicinity, whether they wanted to see it or not. When a boy from a _noble_ family got his first tattoo, he acted _exactly_ like Prince Zuko. Every single time."

Nearly everyone who entered the Academy left with at least one tattoo. The nobles as well as the sons of merchants and lawyers, despite their class's disapproval. It seemed that they were good at coming up with rules for others to follow but terrible at living up to the ones that they set for themselves. Not all of them, of course. But most. General Iroh was clearly one of the ones who held himself to a very high standard, and Jee had nothing but respect for him because of it. But Zuko... not so much.

Something brushed against Jee's leg under the table. He was about to kick at it, but remembered just in time what happened the last time he tried that...

Carefully, without moving his lower body, he peered under the table. Sure enough, Tetsu was rubbing against his leg as if showing affection was something that she _did_. Maybe she did it to try and lure unsuspecting fingers down to her level so she could savage them. A bit like the woman she was named after, in fact... all sweetness and friendliness when she thought it could get her something, but able to turn into a snarling monster at the drop of a hat.

Damn cat.

It didn't occur to Jee until after breakfast was over and the men had reported for duty that sharing his tattoo knowledge with the rest of the watch meant that it was only a matter of time before General Iroh found out about it. It was the sort of indiscretion that the lieutenant normally tried to avoid, but he had been tired and irritated. Not to mention Zuko's inevitable scolding and subsequent temper tantrum would be extremely entertaining to watch—from a distance, of course.

Jee had no regrets.

* * *

The worst-kept secret on any Fire Navy ship was the still. It was technically illegal to brew alcohol on board, and some captains took the law more seriously than others, but the vast majority ignored it, provided the men didn't turn up drunk for their watches. All but the strictest teetotalers agreed that the miniscule liquor ration to which every sailor was entitled was just pathetic.

Diwei was from the backwoods and knew how to build a working still from whatever spare bits of metal were lying around. Before moving to the Fire Nation as a boy, Shogo had lived on resource-poor Kyoshi Island and knew how to make decent moonshine out of whatever he could get his hands on. The two of them got along famously with each other and the rest of the crew.

Diwei caught a cupful of liquor fresh from the still and corked it back up. He lit the alcohol in the cup on fire—it burned a bright, clean blue, signifying that it was free of dangerous impurities, such as lead. He smiled and extinguished the flame before tasting what was left.

"Oooowee. That's good stuff." He passed it to the other sailor, who drank the remainder.

"Pearl kelp? We'll have to remember that one," said Shogo. They had found the tangled mess of weird, pale seaweed clinging to one of the long fishing lines earlier, and in true moonshiner fashion, had decided that it might make good drink. Worth a try, at the very least—if it didn't work out, then they had numerous other recipes to fall back on. But this was definitely one to add to the list.

"Did you hear? Prince Zuko got himself a tattoo," Diwei said as they worked together to fill the crate of empty jugs sitting next to the still. Each crew member who wanted some got one jug at a time, which they returned once it was empty. Then Shogo and Diwei would fill the jugs up again and distribute them back to the crew. Popularity and a bit of extra money—no reason for either of them to complain.

"I'm not surprised. He's, what, sixteen? Seventeen? About time."

"Yep. Got my first one at about that age."

"I think we all did."

"Lieutenant Jee reckons the General ain't gonna be happy once he hears about it."

"No. I don't think so. He'll get over it, though. My friend's cousin who served with him at Ba Sing Se said that Prince Lu Ten had a naked girl tattooed on his arm, and didn't care who knew about it." Shogo smirked and loaded the last two jugs of moonshine back into the crate. "But yeah, I wouldn't have wanted to be around when the General _found_ _out_ about it..."

"That... don't sound like it's true."

"Could have been."

They wisely decided to cut that particular branch of the conversation short as they left with the crate of jugs to be distributed about the ship. It was no surprise that gossip about the prince's tattoo buzzed throughout the hallways and in every occupied room.

It didn't occur to any of them that Lieutenant Jee could be wrong. Out of all the theories, though, his made the most sense and could not be authoritatively debunked. And, of course, he'd seen it so many times before that the men were inclined to believe him.

As Diwei and Shogo passed out the rotgut to each of their regular customers (those who were off-duty anyway—those jugs belonging to men on watch were left by their bunks), they heard an endless list of what the men thought the mysterious tattoo depicted. This seemed to be fueled in part by the fact that no one really knew what sort of tattoo the prince might be interested in—his personality had only two facets: angry and yelling, and cold and withdrawn. What was important enough to him to permanently ink onto his skin was an intriguing mystery.

"The Avatar, obviously," said Yuan, one of the rhino handlers, as he hoisted a bale of hay into their pen.

"A Fire Nation insignia," said Wan the communications officer as he coaxed one of the ship's elderly messenger hawks to take a medicine tablet. "Not very creative, but... it fits, I guess."

"A kitten. With a pink bow around its neck," Captain Hong said. His face remained completely straight as he said it, but a few of his marines hid smirks.

"A naked woman," said Cheng from engineering.

"A naked _man_ ," said Bei, who was working on a rusty pipe a few feet away.

"I dunno. A little heart that says 'Mom' on it?" said Kuo, a firebender who would bet on just about anything.

Shogo and Diwei heard all kinds of entertaining suggestions as they made their rounds, but none that seemed quite right. The rumors persisted even more urgently than before now that the two moonshiners had stirred up their creativity. It really was amazing that none of this had spread to either of the royals yet.

* * *

Laundry duty was not one of the chores on the rotation that any of the men looked forward to—it was better than cleaning the head, at least. The ship's laundry was dark, funny-smelling, and steamier than a Ba Sing Se whorehouse in high summer. But the clothes got clean and no one wanted to spend more time examining the laundry than was absolutely necessary, so no one complained any more than usual.

It was in the dark, smelly little room that Lieutenant Jee's theory was confirmed, not long after it had been accepted as truth by the rest of the crew.

"Hey, look at this," Shu said to Min as they unloaded full baskets of dirty clothes into the big, suspiciously slimy laundry boiler. He held up a shirt, slightly smaller than most of the others, with Prince Zuko's name written inside the collar. It had been crammed into the very bottom of the basket and wadded up into a tiny ball.

"What am I looking at?"

Shu pointed out a cluster of dark speckles on the right side near the bottom, concentrated in a spot the size of the palm of his hand.

Min squinted in the dim red light. "Is that... blood?"

"Nope. It's _black_." He conjured a palm-sized flame and held it close to the shirt. "See? It's _ink_." He grinned. "He really did get a tattoo."

"Well, how about that," Min said. "Too bad we can't tell what it's supposed to be."

"We'll find out eventually."

* * *

When an entire day had somehow passed without General Iroh finding out about his nephew's tattoo, the crew started up a pool on how long it would take for him to catch on. The amount of money in it grew every hour, and by the beginning of the afternoon watch on their second day out of port, it had accrued a rather handsome amount.

Yuan collected the lot about an hour into the watch.

The prince and the general seemed to be having some sort of argument near the bow. Most of the men on watch, and some of those who weren't, had congregated on the bridge under the pretense of a "safety briefing" to see what was happening. Wan the communications officer, who could read lips from a distance, relayed most of the conversation to the rest of the spectators.

"He says... _it's_ _right_ _here,_ _you_ _can't_ _even_ _see_ _it_ ," said Wan as Prince Zuko pointed angrily at a spot on his right side. "General Iroh says... _no_ _matter_ _where_ _it_ _is,_ _it_ _was_ _dishonorable_ _to_ _lie_ _about_ _your_ _age_ _and_ _foolish_ _to_... something something _..._ _without_ _thinking_ _it_ _through_."

"Wait, he's not sixteen yet? I thought he was," said someone near the back of the crowd.

"And then Prince Zuko says... _why_ _do_ _you_ _even_ _care,_ _it's_ _my_ _own_ _skin,_ _I_ _can_ _do_ _what_ _I_ _want_ _to_ _it._ General Iroh says... yes, _but_ _someday_ _you_ _will_ _regret_ _this._ _Perhaps_ _someday_ _soon_. Prince Zuko then says _you're_ _wrong_ _and_ _I_ _don't_ _care_ _anyway._ " They all watched as Zuko stormed away from his uncle, who stared after him with an expression that was half exasperated, half disappointed. It was a depressing look for all who had been paying attention.

After all that build-up, all that gossip and laughter related to the tattoo, seeing General Iroh finally confront Prince Zuko about it was underwhelming, and left a vague, guilty feeling within the worst of the gossip-mongers.

Lieutenant Jee, for his part, would admit no guilt. But seeing General Iroh (who he held in such high esteem) so disappointed in his nephew, over something that would have remained a secret if not for him, left him feeling rather low.

Shogo and Diwei, who had spread the rumor so diligently, felt somewhat responsible for stirring it up rather that letting it die quietly. And it would have, if given enough time.

Yuan briefly felt the urge to distribute his winnings back to those who had started the pool, but then realized that that would involve giving up good Fire Nation silver. He squirreled it all away before he could be tempted again.

A sense of disappointment quickly pervaded the atmosphere on the ship.

Nowhere was it felt more strongly, however, than in Zuko's cabin, as he examined the fresh design on his skin and repeatedly told himself that his uncle was just old-fashioned and boring. _I_ _don't_ _care_ _what_ _he_ _thinks_ , he said over and over again, as if he thought that saying it more would make it true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic Recs!
> 
> Over on FFnet: **Shadow of the Dragon King** , by **Lunatique**. Provides an in-depth look at the politics behind Zuko's banishment, and some very cool, detailed looks at Fire Nation culture. Pre-banishment Zuko is kind of adorkable in this, but he still shows seeds of angst, and is wonderfully impulsive and hot-tempered the balance out the adorkableness. The OCs are compelling, the action scenes are exciting, and I am seriously geeking out about how much forethought went into this fic. Sadly, it hasn't been updated in a while, but maybe she'll write more if you drop a nice review? ;)
> 
> Here on Ao3: **People in the Mirror are Closer than they Appear** , by **Nele**. It's Jeeko. And epic. It's funny, sad, heartwarming, painful, and sexy in all the right ways. I could go on all day about how incredible Jee's POV is and how perfectly bratty and annoying, yet complex, Zuko is. It's like you're getting to know his character all over again, rather than reading just another interpretation of it. Also of note: I usually avoid smut like the plague. This fic is pretty much the only exception.


	20. To the Death, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, thank you so much for your continued support and patience with these long waits. Hopefully Part 2 of this chapter should be up pretty soon.
> 
> Sarapsys on Deviantart has drawn some gorgeous fanart for this story, go check it out! Also, if you're interested in reading 3YS in Hebrew, DrEllert on Deviantart has started a translation. I can send you the URL if you're interested since it looks like external links from profile pages are disabled right now.
> 
> As usual, I'm always up for criticism! Tell me what you think!

"Sir, we have a problem."

"What is it, lieutenant?"

Lieutenant Jee's face remained blank. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the handful of sailors heading purposefully down the pier: four masked firebenders led by a bare-headed captain. Zuko scowled and shaded his eyes against the fiery dawn on the horizon.

He clenched his jaw so hard that his teeth creaked when the captain strode, uninvited, up the gangplank with her firebenders in tow.

"Prince Zuko?" She phrased it like a question, but she already knew who he was. She would not have come aboard otherwise.

"Yeah?"

She inclined her neck in the slightest bow she could manage. "My name is Sun. _Captain_ Sun. That's quite a handsome prize you brought in this morning."

It certainly was. The pirate ship was a green-sailed Earth Kingdom junk, unimpressive on the outside, but filled with all kinds of valuable loot. Its crew had done a fine job of using the ship's boring exterior to avoid the attention of regular Fire Nation ships. _This_ particular Fire Nation ship, however, had few scruples about the size or ornamentation of the vessels they went after and had been rewarded for it.

The pirates' primary cargo had been weapons. Pirates and other miscreants jumped on the opportunity to sneak supplies past Fire Nation lines to the Earth Kingdom armies where they were needed. Of course, they usually sold the cargo to the Earth Kingdom army for extortionate amounts of money, which continued because the Earth Kingdom _navy_ spent more time masturbating and crashing into rocks (the two _might_ have been related) than catching pirates and keeping track of their own property.

Even so, if the supplies were needed badly enough, the Earth Kingdom army would pay the pirates' fee. Which is why it was up to the Fire Nation to keep anyone from getting their hands on any of it.

"I do my duty to my nation."

Zuko knew she wasn't here to compliment his work. No captain ever approached his ship for any purpose other than to needle him. He had no reason to act like this would be any different.

"Indeed." The captain turned to Lieutenant Jee. "Please excuse us, Lieutenant."

Jee somehow managed to give her a bow that was even shallower than the one she had shown to Zuko before he left.

Captain Sun's tone was civil but not friendly. "I wondered if you might answer a question for me."

"What."

"Which fleet does your ship belong to?"

"We're independent."

"Hmm. That's what I thought." She placed her hands on her hips. "In that case none of your acquisitions benefit the Fire Navy at large." She glanced overboard at the workers carrying crates of contraband from the wrecked pirate ship onto the pier.

"And?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I believe that those who fight and die in the name of freedom should be first to pick their rewards. Don't you agree?"

"What's your point?"

"Leave the south seas to us. The pirates here have resources that will advance the campaign. At present, that is the most important thing. _You_ can look elsewhere for your own prizes."

Zuko's frown deepened. "We're staying here."

"Oh really?" She took a step forward. Zuko tilted his head back to maintain contact with her eyes and not her chin. This wasn't going to work. No commoner navy captain could bully him into doing anything. Not when he'd already made up his mind about what he was going to do.

"Yes."

"Perhaps you should reconsider." Her voice took on a chilly tone. Zuko's eyes were starting to water, but whatever he did, he swore he would not blink.

"Or what?"

"Your little errand for Commander Wei might have gotten you a place in New Azulon, but his hand only reaches so far. If you continue to place yourself above the goals of your nation, you may begin to find yourself… unwelcome in certain ports." She smiled slightly. "The world is a big place. How will you survive if you have no place to go?"

Zuko gritted his teeth. "I am the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation. It would be treason to close a port to me."

"To a prince with any legitimate claim to the throne, yes." Captain Sun turned and went to the railing. Her gaze followed two dock workers who lugged a heavy crate out of the junk and set it down on the pier. "But to a prince whose liege has all but declared him illegitimate… well. Things are a lot less certain."

Zuko's insides went cold.

"Get off my ship," he said quietly. She turned back to look at him, eyebrows arched in displeasure and an almost predatory gleam in her eye.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Get. Off. My. Ship."

He could feel the blood pounding in his head, the heat running through his veins, threatening to burst out of his hands in a cloud of fire. He'd made an effort to control it before, but now… it was over.

"Are you really in a position to be giving _me_ orders, Prince Zuko?" She grinned. Her teeth were obsessively white.

"You are on my ship. Get off."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll—"

A large and heavy hand clapped Zuko forcefully on the shoulder, jarring him out of his focus.

"Captain Sun! What a privilege to see you again," Uncle said. "I suppose you have met my nephew?"

The captain's grin melted in the presence of someone who could actually send her to a court martial. She bowed, properly this time. Zuko's fists were still clenched tight, small wisps of steam escaping from between his fingers.

"I am honored, General Iroh."

Uncle's smile was benevolent as usual. His fingers tightened on Zuko's shoulder when the prince tried to pull away. "You must forgive me for not inviting you to stay, Captain. We have a bit of a schedule to keep and I'm sure you're very busy as well."

"Quite busy, I'm afraid, sir." She stared directly at Zuko. Her eyes were very dark, cold, and almost without reflection. Their taunting gleam had disappeared. There was no mistaking the malice there, no matter how deferential her manner had become in Iroh's presence. Zuko stared back, still not blinking.

He didn't look away until Iroh had steered him all the way around and in the direction of the tower. Lieutenant Jee stood to one side, hands clasped behind his back. He followed them into the tower and shut the door behind him.

"I think it is time for a cup of tea, Prince Zuko. On the bridge, I think."

Zuko made no effort to conceal his exasperated sigh. Even so, he followed Iroh up the narrow spiral staircase, all the way up to the bridge, and took a seat at the pai sho table. For once he couldn't find it in himself to fight back—not against his uncle, not after the tattoo incident. It was still too recent. He'd been forgiven almost immediately ("I just cannot stay upset with you, my nephew"), but he still felt the sting of Uncle's disapproval as acutely as the tattooist's needle.

Iroh sat down and began making the tea. Jasmine this time, once again brewed in his favorite silver teapot. Instead of looking either at his uncle or at the shiny teapot, Zuko looked down at the table. He found a deep scratch in the wood and started to worry it with his fingernail.

"You must believe me when I say that Captain Sun is not a woman to be crossed," Iroh said while the water began heating.

" _She_ was crossing _me_."

"She was deliberately provoking you. She wanted an excuse to challenge you to an agni kai, nothing more."

"I could have taken her."

"Captain Sun has challenged eleven capable and experienced Fire Navy officers, and beaten every one of them."

"Are you saying I'm _not_ capable?"

"I am saying no such thing, Zuko. I _am_ saying that you should avoid fighting unless it is absolutely necessary. She wanted you to walk right into her trap."

Zuko flexed his fingers. In reality, he knew that Uncle was right. But even so… he could have taken her. He just knew it. His fire was still running hot, demanding real violence for once. He was tired of holding back. In this moment he wanted nothing more to fight, to win, to watch her humiliation as she realized just how wrong she was.

_A prince whose liege has all but declared him illegitimate…_

He would show her. Her and everyone else who thought the same thing. They were wrong. He was the crown prince of the Fire Nation, the rightful heir to the throne, and one day he would make every single one of them pay.

Iroh poured Zuko a cup of tea, which he ignored.

"I will not show her my respect, Uncle."

"Of course not. She is a bloodthirsty savage who is unworthy of your respect." He took a serene sip of his own tea. Zuko blinked. He'd never heard Iroh call anyone a "savage." Not even the Water Tribes.

"Bloodthirsty savage or not, I don't care what she says. We're staying here, according to schedule."

"I assume she told you to look elsewhere for pirates?"

"Yeah."

"Typical. Well, I agree that you should not feel bound to do what she says. We must be ready for confrontations, however, as I believe she is stationed here and patrols the area regularly. Am I correct, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir."

"What kind of confrontations?"

"Blocking our path, trying to keep us out of certain areas, generally getting in the way," said Lieutenant Jee, voice full of disapproval. "It would be better to avoid her than to try to deal with interruptions as they happen."

"Indeed," Iroh agreed. "We must also be careful to avoid anything that could be construed as a challenge, as she will jump on any opportunity to fight." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, my nephew, perhaps it would be easier to move on a little earlier than we had planned. It may not be worth it to provoke Captain Sun over pirates that can be just as easily found in Chameleon Bay."

" _No_. If we leave, that means that she wins."

Iroh sighed. He poured some more tea for himself. Zuko knew he was being unreasonable. He didn't care. He would _not_ let Captain Sun win. He wouldn't even let her _think_ that she'd won. He picked up his own teacup and drank the whole thing in one gulp—the tea scalded his throat, but he didn't mind. It felt like the fire that was still begging for a fight within his body.

He had to start somewhere. He certainly wasn't going to back out like a ducken, but he wasn't going to go into this completely blind.

"Lieutenant?"

"Sir."

"I want you to find any information you can about Captain Sun."

"Anything in particular?"

"No. Anything that seems important. If she's going to bother us until we decide to leave, I want to know how she operates."

Jee's eyebrows shot up as if in surprise—Zuko had a vague idea that he should be insulted by this for some reason. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good."

* * *

 

Lieutenant Jee returned to the ship a few hours later, empty-handed and looking frustrated. Zuko was still on the bridge, studying a chart of the south seas. Iroh had gone into town to shop.

"I'm afraid I wasn't able to find anything, sir."

"Why not?" Zuko scowled.

"The records here are completely sealed. You need special clearance to even get into the building. Stricter than most, in that regard."

"You just weren't trying hard enough."

The lieutenant sighed. "If you say so, sir."

Thoughts ran through Zuko's mind at a dizzying pace. This shouldn't be this hard. Certainly, every port had plenty of records that were off-limits without express permission from whoever was in charge, but the whole building usually wasn't closed. Usually people could go in and see most of their own records, at least. What was the commander trying to hide? What kind of records were so secret that they justified shutting down everything? Why was it different here, of all places?

He could already guess what would happen if he tried to obtain permission. By all rights he should have access to everything. The prince should know everything about his future subjects, after all.

Someday. Someday he would have his honor back and nothing would be closed to him again.

For now, he needed a different plan. He already had a vague idea. He just had a few things to do before he could put it into action.

"I'm going out," he said. "While I'm gone, I want you to find some dark blue dye."

"Um, all right. Why?"

"Never mind that." Zuko stood up and started toward the door.

"How much do you need?"

"Plenty."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

 

The town looked like any other seaside town in the colonies. Shady port district, shops and stalls, apartments, houses, a factory, government and military buildings. That which constituted the navy base was up the hill a little further, surrounded by a high wall and guarded at all entrances. There was no way around and it was quite smooth all the way up. A few guards strolled along the wall. Nonbenders, most likely.

Zuko walked along the edge of the wall, trying to look casual and eating a satay. At the gate, he showed his ID tag and was let in. So far, so good. No one was suspicious.

Barracks, mess hall, armory, offices, nondescript buildings… there it was, the records building. The door was guarded, but the windows weren't terribly secure. Wooden shutters, closed from the inside, but able to be opened from the outside with a little effort. At the moment, several of the shutters were open to let in the warm summer breeze.

_This shouldn't be too hard._

The rest of his outing was, thankfully, uneventful. When Zuko returned to the ship, there was a paper-wrapped cake of dark blue dye sitting on his desk, just as ordered.

He drew a large bucket of hot seawater from the showers, lugged it back to his cabin, and dropped the dye into it. The dense cake started to disintegrate immediately, staining the water as deep and dark as the ocean.

"Pants… shirt… and a hood," he muttered to himself as he rummaged in his clothes chest for the appropriate items. "All right, I don't have a hood." He _did_ have a spare shirt and pair of pants: worn and slightly too small, but perfect for what he had in mind. They went into the bucket of dye while he searched for something he could make a hood out of. His pajama shirt would work fine, he decided. He didn't need it anyway.

He cut a large, vaguely head-shaped piece out of it with his knife and went at it with a needle and thread. The finished result wouldn't look pretty, but that didn't matter. After examining the existing stitches in another piece of clothing, he figured he could manage to pass the needle back and forth in the fabric; sure enough, he did a rough but fair job of making the hood fit snug against his head and only stabbed his fingers a few times. Into the bucket the finished hood went.

While waiting for the dye to process, he unrolled one of his scrolls on swordsmanship.

He really needed to practice more. There were, after all, enough hours in the day to practice both firebending and swordsmanship—he just needed to budget his time better.

"Nephew, what are you doing?"

Zuko's head jerked up. He looked immediately over at the chest to make sure he hadn't accidentally left out one of the dog-eared prints he usually kept folded up and hidden inside the formal silk tunic that he never had the occasion to wear.

"What? Uncle?"

Iroh fixed Zuko with a shrewd stare as he stepped over the threshold and into the cabin. "It looks like you have a new project."

"Never mind."

"Does this have something to do with the records you weren't able to get earlier?"

" _Never mind_."

Uncle peered into the bucket, hands tucked into his sleeves. "Your dedication to your goals is admirable. But sometimes I wonder if that will be your undoing someday."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You will fight to the bloody end to achieve whatever you set your mind to, even if you were in over your head to begin with. Sometimes you get so caught up in pursuing a goal that you don't realize the danger you are in."

Zuko frowned at his scroll. "I'm not in any danger that I can't handle."

"That's how it always starts. We rarely put ourselves in situations that we _know_ are dangerous. And then… it catches up with us." He put a hand on Zuko's shoulder. Zuko shrugged it off right away.

"Stop touching me. Everything's fine."

Iroh sighed, the deep, long-suffering sigh of a man trying to hide concern that would not be appreciated by its recipient. "Very well, Zuko." He turned back toward the door. "Be careful."

"I will."

The old general departed, leaving Zuko to his scroll.

The wait for the dye to finish was agonizing, but at long last, it was done. Well, it had been a few hours, and surely that was enough time to give the gray fabric the perfect color to blend into the shadows at night. After rinsing the clothes out in the showers (and staining his hands and the entire floor blue), Zuko rigged a clothesline in his cabin and hung all three pieces up to dry.

So began the unbearable wait until nightfall. His project had already taken several hours, but it was only mid-afternoon, and he would have to stay in until it was completely pitch-dark outside. Four, five hours. Maybe even six, this time of year.

He paced the deck of the ship. Deep, dark clouds were rolling in from the sea. Rain had not figured into his plans, but he appreciated the clouds.

He looked out at all the other vessels in the yard. As usual, his was the smallest that he could see. Captain Sun's imposition on his business was clearly not out of concern for the well-being of the navy itself. These ships could take anything they wanted, from any enemy ship or poorly-defended port. And yet she had the audacity to tell him to stop picking off the smallest pirate ships he could find just to stretch his yearly budget.

It wasn't about the rewards. It had never been about the rewards. Not for her, and not for him.

* * *

 

At last, it was time.

The deep blue pants and shirt had a chemical, almost vinegary smell to them, and were stiff with excess dye. Both had shrunk in the bucket, which was fine, if a little uncomfortable. They had already been a bit too small to begin with.

Instead of his usual hard-soled boots, Zuko wore a pair made of softer leather, the ones he wore while training. Not only were they quieter, but they also helped him keep his balance. A belt, a pair of gloves, and finally the hood. It too was itchy and smelly, but it served its purpose. A heavy application of coal dust to the exposed parts of his face would keep his skin from glowing in the darkness.

Finally, he strapped his swords to his back and slipped off into the night.

* * *

 

Something about the secrecy of it all made his skin prickle, every sense attuned to signs of detection as he flitted between shadows and dark crevices.

The dockside establishments never slept. Raucous voices, laughter, cheers floated out into the street. Zuko passed unnoticed between a tavern and a brothel. A man was passed-out drunk in the alleyway, a bottle of cloudy liquor dangling from one limp hand and saliva glistening on his chin.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Zuko cursed and quickened his steps. He couldn't go too fast and still remain beneath notice, but he had to hurry before the rain came in.

He paused for a moment between two apartment buildings, crouching behind a rain barrel. A watchman with a lamp strolled down the street. Zuko held his breath until he was safely gone and the sound of his whistling had disappeared around a corner.

The quiet was shattered by a barking dog. It was coming closer. Swearing silently to himself, Zuko grabbed the nearest windowsill and began to climb. His foot slipped once on the way up and his heart skipped several painful beats, but he ended up on the roof, no worse for the wear. He peered over the edge to see an astonishingly large and ferocious-looking black dog below, barking and jumping and clawing at the wall just below where Zuko was perched.

"Shut up, damn dog," he hissed. "Go away. I'm not going to rob anyone."

The dog did not shut up. Lights were starting to come on in doors and windows all around the neighborhood.

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

Zuko bit the inside of his cheek and stayed put. If only he had something to keep the dog busy…

He had to run. The space between this building and the next one over looked close enough to clear in one long jump.

Heart racing, he sprinted across the roof and jumped with all of his might.

The landing knocked all the wind out of him and sent a sharp pain through his right ankle. He rolled onto his back and forced himself to take deep breaths in, even though every movement sent spasms through his body. At least he made the jump. At least he wasn't splattered all over the pavement.

_Keep going… you have to keep going…_

He staggered to his feet. His ankle was fine; he'd just rolled it a little. It hurt, but he could put his weight on it.

The dog was still barking somewhere below him. He had to get out of here before the whole neighborhood decided to check in out, but he didn't know how many more roof-jumps he had in him. He needed a different plan.

Thunder rumbled again, closer this time, and a fat raindrop hit him square in the eye. It picked up immediately, rain falling faster and faster all around him.

 _Okay. This will work_.

He still had to hurry. Even with the rain blocking his scent from the dog, there were still other obstacles before he reached his destination. The rain would also wash the coal dust from his face, and he had nothing else with which to disguise himself.

Carefully, and testing each step to keep from slipping, he climbed down the wall and back to street level. He'd already made it this far. The base wasn't much further. If he could just avoid detection between here and there—

It was raining harder now. It poured down in heavy sheets, soaking through his clothes in second. He swiped a hand across his eyes, and the glove came away clean. No coal. He had to hurry and stay invisible.

Staying on the ground was easier, but more dangerous. He covered more ground this way, but there were more people and dogs, and he winced every time he splashed through a puddle he couldn't go around.

_Quick. Stay low. Keep to the shadows. Almost there._

The high wall around the base loomed in front of him. He could climb it, but he had to make sure absolutely no one saw him. With nothing to disguise his face…

The wall looked smooth from a distance, but cracks and jutting stones made functional handholds. When he reached the top, he waited until a passing guard's footsteps faded away into the sound of the rain before hoisting himself up and over.

A large trash heap on the other side cushioned his fall, though it did make an alarming _crunch_ as he landed in it. Now he was wet and covered in garbage. Any dog who could find him now deserved fresh meat every day and cats to chase to its heart's content.

The records building was just up ahead, past two sets of barracks and a mess hall. The door was guarded, as it had been earlier, but there was a window open on the third floor. The building itself was dark and deserted for the night. Zuko scaled the wall, lifting himself up on the window frames and decorative molding, until he reached the third floor.

He had no idea where he was looking, if there was a section for captains stationed in the area or if it was arranged in some other way. All around him were shelves upon shelves of scrolls, all labeled and color-coded. In the center of the room were a few desks where bureaucrats worked during the day, well-stocked with paper and writing implements. Zuko squinted in the darkness, trying to avoid conjuring a flame to read by. He couldn't be discovered now after making it so far.

These were all names of people, whether military or civilian he couldn't tell. Wrong section for someone named Sun, though. Treading quietly and keeping a hand on the end of his swords to keep them from rattling, he crept down to the second floor.

Yes, this is where it would be. He ran a hand along the shelves, searching for the name… there it was. Sun.

There were six people named Sun on this shelf. He pulled one out and unrolled it.

Sun Fong, midshipman, seventeen years old… that wasn't right.

The next one was Sun Meiling, a female soldier, information that almost made Zuko take the scroll until he realized that she was in the army, not the navy.

Sun Tan, an elderly local merchant… Sun Xiang, a bartender…

Sun Chao. Navy captain. Female, thirty-six years old. Columns upon columns of acquisitions at sea and victories in the agni kai arena. This was the one. Zuko stuffed the scroll into his belt and replaced it on the shelf with a scroll from across the room, one that probably wouldn't be missed.

Time to get out. No use lingering when he had the information he needed. Every second he stayed was another second that he might be caught.

Just as he was about to leave, a door caught his eye. The words TOP SECRET were painted in bold black ink right in the middle.

He couldn't help it. He tried the knob and, finding it unlocked, walked in.

Part of him scoffed at the state of Fire Navy bureaucracy, leaving such an important door open for anyone to go in once they managed to enter the building unnoticed, but mostly he was curious. So _this_ was why the whole building was off-limits, because of this one little room.

It too was lined with shelves and scrolls, but there was a large worktable in the middle of the room, strewn with bottles and vials and bits of metal and paper. He looked closer. There were several objects that looked like fireworks, but in this light, they could have been anything. He picked one up. It definitely looked like a firework, but more substantial. This one had "Prototype" painted on the side.

Not a firework, but a rocket. All of them were rockets, different kinds for different purposes. One might bring down a wall, one might set fire to a house or send shrapnel flying into whatever was nearby.

Top Secret. Well, it made sense now. Time to leave before anyone decided to check to see if their top secret rocket room had been compromised.

As careful and quiet as ever, he climbed out the window he had climbed into and dropped lightly onto the ground. Cross the base, climb the wall, and disappear into the rain. Simple enough. Whether it would be _easy_ was a different question entirely.

He had the scroll of information. No use lingering any longer.

"YOU! Stop right there!"

Zuko's insides froze.

He paused for a moment, not turning around to see where the order had come from, and then took off running. Run for the wall. If he could make it over, he could get away.

"This is your last warning! Stop!"

He kept running, straight for a building that looked like an armory. If he could just grab a helmet from inside, he could face the guards head-on with his swords.

A spear whizzed past his left ear. More shouting voices joined the first-they were coming. He had to get away. His heart was hammering inside his chest, his breath coming hard and fast as he ran.

He jumped into the nearest armory window. He found himself not among helmets and body armor, but in a room full of dozens of different kinds of rockets.

The voices were getting closer. He had to find something quickly. A helmet, an engineer's mask, anything. He stumbled blindly in the darkness, tripping over tables and chairs, until he made it to the next room over. Here were the helmets, their empty white faces staring blankly at him from the shelves.

He reached for the nearest shelf. His fingers closed not on a firebender's helmet, but on something smaller, made of ceramic or maybe lacquered wood, he couldn't tell.

Not a helmet, but a mask. An opera mask depicting a grinning blue-and-white demon.

He had no idea what it was doing here. But it would work in a pinch. He tied it over his face and prepared for whatever was going to happen next.

The guards were coming still closer. He could hear their voices getting louder and louder as they approached the armory.

He heard the distinctive _whoosh_ of firebending. The wall tumbled inward. Zuko drew his swords and prepared to face them, trembling behind his grinning mask and thinking nothing more than one long stream of incoherent fear.

More firebending. Shouts, flashing weapons, and then—

The building exploded. Rockets shot off in every direction, destroying the building and everything around it. Zuko dropped low to the ground at the last second, before a chunk of burning masonry flew right at where his head had been. Another explosion, and then a third—something hot and sharp tore into his left shoulder and he bit down _hard_ on his lip to keep from making a sound.

Blood coursed from the wound, running thick and warm down his chest. He had dropped his sword; gingerly, he picked it up and sheathed both weapons.

Another set of rockets went off. He had to get out of here before the smoke cleared and the guards were chasing him again.

Holding his left arm close to his body, he took off running.

People from all over the base—all over town, too—were turning out to investigate the explosions. Zuko knew he would never be able to climb with his arm like this. He disappeared into the crowd, taking advantage of their confusion to cover his escape. The front gate was unguarded. He pushed it open, closed it behind him, and ran off into the downpour with still more rockets going off in his wake.

* * *

 

Only when Zuko was back on the safety of his ship, barricaded in his room, did the wound in his shoulder _really_ start hurting.

He dropped his swords and the scroll down on his bed and hid the mask in his clothes chest. He tried to peel his sodden shirt off without doing any more damage.

He couldn't do it. Teeth clenched, eyes squeezed shut, he tried to pull it over his head, but his arm wouldn't bend that way. Whatever was stuck in the muscle, a wood splinter, perhaps, made his nerves scream with agony whenever he tried to move in any direction. He tasted blood in his mouth and realized that he was biting down on his own tongue.

This wasn't working. Something was really wrong and he couldn't move his arm. He sat down on the floor and tried to think of something to do. Nothing came to mind, just white-hot pain so intense that he almost felt like throwing up. Why hadn't his eye ever hurt this acutely?

He got the scroll. That was what mattered. He could deal with the rest as it happened. Now that he had the scroll, he could take just as much time as he wanted to figure out how to take off his wet clothes.

Right now, just breathing was a struggle. Later. He'd figure it out later.

His door swung open. Uncle, uninvited as usual.

"Nephew, have you heard the expl—ah. I see." Uncle raised his eyebrows and stepped into the room. Zuko grimaced up at him. "Apparently you have yet to learn the meaning of 'be careful.'"

"Sorry, Uncle. I tried."

"I'm sure you did." He came closer. "What happened?"

"I…"

The words wouldn't come. Somewhere between his mind and his mouth, all rational thought disappeared. He pulled his right hand back from his shoulder—it was dark and gory with partially-congealed blood. Uncle was at his side in an instant. He pressed his own wide sleeve to the wound to stop the bleeding.

"I suppose you don't _want_ me to know what happened out there."

Zuko just grimaced again. He was tired, and in so much pain that he could hardly even think.

"So," Iroh continued, "I won't ask. If it's important, as I suspect it is, I'll find out anyway." He removed his sleeve and probed at the wound. "Hmm, it feels like a wooden splinter. It went in cleanly; I can probably remove it in one piece."

"Just do it," Zuko said through clenched teeth.

Uncle grasped the end of the splinter in two fingers and _pulled_. Some kind of sound clawed its way out of Zuko's throat, halfway between a shout and a whimper. Fresh blood welled from the wound. He cracked his eyes open to see Iroh holding up a bloodstained, three-inch shard of wood.

"Does it feel like it's all out? Is there any other piece that I missed?"

"I think so," Zuko gasped. "Yeah. I think it's out."

"I will be back with bandages. Stay there, and keep pressure on it."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem." Things like standing up and moving around were _so_ far out of the circle of things that Zuko could realistically do. Sitting wasn't a problem. Staying put wasn't a problem.

Iroh left, and Zuko tried again to take off his shirt. It hurt, but he could lift his arm enough to get it off this time. He pressed the wet cloth to his shoulder…

He was _blue_. His whole body was stained blue from the dye residue running off his clothes in the rain. He checked his reflection in the blade of one of his swords—even his _head_ was blue. Looking up again, he realized that he'd tracked in a trail of blue water and was now sitting in a puddle of it.

"Damn cheap dye," he muttered.

Iroh laughed as soon as he re-entered the room with bandages and a bottle of alcohol. "What an adventure it must have been, my very blue nephew."

"This had better wash off."

"Ironic words, coming from a young man with a tattoo." The raised eyebrow was back.

"It's not the same. I didn't want to be completely blue all over."

"Even so. You may want to hide both from your crew for a while. The rumor's already made its way through the docks. They are looking for someone in dark blue or black, who fights with two swords. While you cannot hope to fool me with regards to anything you do, you may yet fool them if you keep it covered."

Zuko absently covered the tattoo with a sleeve of his shirt. A simple design: a pair of crossed swords underneath a small anchor, drawn just below his ribs on his right side. Unobtrusive, a little smaller than his palm, but iconic. Instantly recognizable.

He bit his tongue again when Iroh took an alcohol-soaked cloth to his shoulder. It still burned long after it was neatly bandaged, and only started to fade after a midnight cup of tea.

He crawled into bed, utterly exhausted, and was dead to the world before his head even touched the pillow.

Even through all the pain and terror of the evening, he had to admit… it had been fun.

* * *

 

Captain Sun surveyed the wreckage of the armory and the general mayhem in the area.

"Report."

The soldier saluted. "Ma'am, someone broke into the records building. The special projects room has been compromised by the same person who caused the explosion."

"It must have been Earth Kingdom rebels. Search the area, they can't have gotten far." She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Check the land and the sea in all directions. These plans cannot fall into the hands of the enemy."

"Yes, ma'am."

What a mess. What an absolute disaster.

She had to contain this slip-up, or all of her hard work would have been for nothing. Her future plans depended on how well she demonstrated talent for command—she would not have everything undone because some slipshod guards and lazy bureaucrats couldn't do their duties properly. And when she found those responsible for everything, she would deal with them in proper Fire Nation form. She always did.


	21. To The Death, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I bet you all forgot about this fic again! Never fear about Part 3 of this nonsense taking as long as this, I have it pretty well-outlined and I'll try to get that started as soon as possible. And I have some good ideas about chapters to go after this thing with Sun is finished. I literally wrote most of this in the past week. Nele is visiting me again and it really helps to have an in-person writing buddy, it keeps you accountable for your progress.
> 
> Captain Yao is easily my favorite 3YS OC so far. He'll show up a couple of times in the fic after this three-parter is finished.
> 
> Thank you all for your patience, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

When Zuko woke up the next morning, he felt like he'd been stepped on by a rhino, and the deep puncture in his shoulder felt like someone was twisting a knife in it.

He lay motionless, breathing shallowly, listening to the steady spatter of rain on the windows. It was still dark outside. He couldn't tell if it was from the early hour or the thick blanket of clouds, or both. Either way, the pain in his shoulder had woken him up and was now preventing him from moving.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to shift to a less-painful position. Every muscle he moved sent fresh needles through his body, pointing out a dozen bruises that he swore weren't there yesterday. A lump in his mattress pressed into his spine and made it impossible to lie comfortably. His face felt sticky from sweat, and the rest of him had a clammy chill that wasn't helped by his too-thin blanket.

Squinting in the darkness, he looked over at his desk. The scroll of information was there, wrinkled from the rain and stained with blue dye and his own blood. He had to start reading it. Every moment he lay here was a moment he could have used to get the upper hand on Captain Sun.

Just bending his body into an upright position was a challenge. His muscles were in open revolt, but he managed to sit up on the edge of his bed and rest his forehead in his hand. He felt like an old man.

The door opened with an echoing creak. Uncle stepped in and quickly closed the door behind him.

"You should know that Captain Sun has started an investigation," he said. "She wants to lock down the harbor and the base. I instructed the helmsman to take us out with the morning traffic so we won't be caught here."

"Are we already underway?" Zuko asked groggily.

"Yes. I sent a hawk ahead to Zhou Army Station to say we would be landing there for a bit. We'll be there in a couple of hours."

"All right."

"You seem cold. Maybe you'll feel better after a nice hot shower."

"I know. Don't baby me." He was going to take a shower anyway. He was still blue. Hopefully no one would bother him while he was in there.

"I am just looking out for you, nephew."

"I can look out for myself."

Iroh sighed heavily and left. Zuko felt bad for a moment, but no longer. He had work to do.

Getting out of bed was more difficult, but his body loosened up the more he moved. He sat down at his desk and unrolled the scroll. The characters were smudged with water and blood, and some parts were illegible, but he was able to find everything he needed.

It appeared that Sun had no powerful family, no fortune, no titles except her own military rank. Her parents were laborers, it said, and mentioned that she was the only firebender in a family of eight. Not the background that usually lent itself to a career as a Fire Navy captain, but she had a list of powerful contacts the length of his arm.

There was a list of Agni Kai victories as well. Just as Uncle had warned him, a perfect record with eleven dead opponents. There were details by each. Six were killed on the spot. Two young officers committed suicide after their defeats, and three others died of infection.

In the empty space at the bottom of the paper, there was a brief note.

_Sun Chao must reach the top or be eliminated. Admiral Hu_.

Eliminated? In what way? Did she know about it already?

"She's crazy but effective," Zuko muttered to himself. "She has to _stay_ effective."

It was all starting to make sense, in a twisted way. Control. She had to maintain control over everyone, including Zuko. But he would not be controlled. Whatever tangible rewards there were, the more important thing was that he would not allow Sun to control him.

He decided to think on it more later. But first, he needed a shower.

It _did_ help. Zuko sat on the floor directly under the steaming hot water, holding a folded towel tightly against his bandaged shoulder to keep seawater from stinging in the wound. A trail of blue-tinted water swirled from his body to the drain in the middle of the floor.

He looked at the back of his arm. The dye was fading, but still there.

He was never getting out of the shower. Ever. The dye could damn well be permanent if it wanted, because it didn't matter as long as he was in here.

The door creaked open.

"Go away," Zuko snarled, and the door closed again.

It wasn't like he constantly meant to sound nasty. It just… happened. He couldn't help it, especially in situations like this one.

By the time the water ran clear, he did feel better. His shoulder still stung, but his muscles were warm and thoroughly softened by rough, salty torrent. He wiped steam off a cloudy metal mirror bolted to the wall—there was still a little blue residue around his ears and fingernails, but he was clean.

Clean, and very pink. Well, it was better than being blue.

* * *

The news had traveled quickly. By the time Zuko's ship docked at Zhou Army Station, posters already plastered the walls and kiosks, calling for immediate action and the arrest of last night's burglar. There was a description—a man in black, carrying a sword over his shoulder—but the poster accused Earth Kingdom rebels of orchestrating the infiltration. Good.

Zuko tore down one of the posters and tucked it into his armor. It wouldn't hurt to have one on hand.

It was still raining, a warm, steamy rain that nevertheless felt clammy and disgusting. Zuko gritted his teeth against it and headed to the bar in the center of town. There had to be someone with information there. Besides, he was hungry.

It was crowded inside. Zuko joined the throng at the bar in hopes that he'd be able to get something before tomorrow. There wasn't much at the station besides this bar and a few other, equally crowded ones, and if he went back to the ship for dinner and some moonshine swiped from Diwei's still, he might implode. He wasn't going to be cooped up on the ship again until he had at least some small idea of a plan.

The crowd didn't seem to be going anywhere. Zuko squeezed his way into the middle and a few of the other soldiers jockeying for drinks got elbows in the ribs when they didn't move right away.

There was a loud guffaw and then the man next to him trod on his toes.

"Watch where you're going," he snarled, and then a large, red-faced sergeant turned around to peer at him with an expression that looked anything but friendly.

"'Scuse me?"

Zuko drew himself up to his full height and deliberately stepped on the offending foot. "I said, _watch it_."

"You're gonna want to cool it down, son."

"Piss off," Zuko snapped before he could stop himself.

The sergeant raised an eyebrow. Before Zuko could do anything else, a large hand clapped down and squeezed his bad shoulder. Zuko winced.

"Looks like it's time for you to head out," said the bouncer. "If you can't find the door, I can help with that."

_Not again_.

" _Fine_." Zuko wrenched his arm out of the man's grasp and stormed away from the bar.

Once he was out of the building, he slammed the door shut behind him. He stomped around the side of the building and, with a huff, took up a post underneath the eaves to keep from getting wet. People were still laughing and talking inside. He could smell grilling meat from the kitchen and for a moment his stomach reminded him why he'd gone in there in the first place. But no. He wasn't going back.

"Saw the price of sake, did you?"

A young man was leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. Zuko ignored him.

It continued to rain with no sign of letting up. Zuko watched a fat drop of water course along the edge of the roof until it dripped off near a corner. The man smoked his cigarette down to a stub and then flicked it into the mud. He retrieved an engraved silver cigarette case from within his uniform and took out a fresh one.

It was so hard to concentrate, with the rain and his hunger and the cloud of anger that still muddled his ability to make any kind of coherent plan. Zuko sighed and let his head rest against the wall.

One day. One day they would all pay for treating him like this.

A voice shattered him out of his vengeful fantasies. "Having a bad day, Prince Zuko?" The young man was looking at him again, a small smile in the corner of his mouth. It looked like it probably never left his face.

Zuko shot a glare in his direction. "You don't know me."

"I guess not. But Mai does."

Zuko's heart skipped a beat. " _You_ know Mai? Yao Mai?"

"She's my cousin," he said. "Sort of. Her father is my father's nephew." He took a long drag and exhaled a column of blue smoke.

"How is she?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen her in a while."

"Oh." Zuko looked down. "Neither have I."

"Oh yeah, I guess I heard something about you being banished."

The offhand way he mentioned it made Zuko stiffen, but he made himself breathe out some of the pressure on his fire and consciously unclenched his fists. Throwing a fit about this would just be stupid, when he had so many other things that needed his energy. But... most people just didn't bring it up so casually.

"I'm Yao Lifeng," he said after a long pause. "Just so we're on the same page."

Now that Zuko was looking, Yao Lifeng did seem to have the pale, slender Yao family look about him, but stretched to extremes. He had a nearly translucent face with dark circles under his flat, pale brown eyes. His black hair seemed to suck light in rather than reflect it, and his eyebrows were perfectly straight and horizontal. He was a tall, thin spear of a man with long, spindly arms and legs; his uniform was clearly custom-made, as the standard-issue armor would not have fit him well.

"Cigarette?"

Zuko stared at the white stick in Yao's outstretched hand. "…All right." He took it and, trying to look like he wasn't secretly studying Yao's technique, put it between his lips. The man held out a small flame on the tip of his thumb. Zuko leaned in. He inhaled deeply when the cigarette caught.

His chest seized up, burned, and then he doubled over with hard, racking, _embarrassing_ coughs. He braced his hands on his knees for a few moments while he wheezed and caught his breath.

"That can't be good for you," he said weakly when he managed to straighten up again. Yao was smiling a little.

"None of the good things in life are."

Zuko narrowed his eyes at Yao's smirk and felt annoyance bubble up from his stomach. "Don't laugh at me."

He exhaled a smoke ring. "I'm not. It's just that Mai did the same thing the first time she smoked, too."

The _first_ time?

No matter how hard he tried to squash it down, Zuko couldn't help but ache at the mere mention of Mai. He had to stop thinking about what she looked like now, trying to figure out how she might have changed in the year and a half he'd been gone. How life must have continued for her as always, with school and family and everything else that hadn't been interrupted like Zuko's life had.

No. He couldn't keep thinking about her. It would be too painful.

He stood there in silence while Yao smoked, flicked away the end of his cigarette, and then lit another one. It had to be a massively expensive habit.

Zuko stared straight at a wooden post in front of him. "Do you know Captain Sun Chao?"

"Navy captain? Sort of violent and scary?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Not personally, but I know people who work with her."

"What can you tell me about her?"

Yao shrugged. "Not much. She's demanding and runs a tight ship. People complain. Why?"

Zuko kept staring at the post. "We sailed in to Beilang yesterday with a captured pirate ship. She told me to stay out of her waters or she'd bar me from the port. And probably try to fight me, too."

"So leave her alone. It doesn't sound like it's worth it to get involved."

Zuko's fire flared hot. "But she can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"There's an open bounty on pirates." He'd researched it, very thoroughly, with Lieutenant Jee's experience to back him up.

"Okay."

"If any person or ship is wanted for piracy, _all_ warships are authorized to take them in."

"All right." Yao paused a moment and frowned. "Isn't that what you just said?"

"Captain Sun can't tell me to stay out of the area," Zuko said, a little more forcefully. "If I was some stupid civilian who was getting into this, she could arrest me. Right?"

"Probably."

"But I'm not a stupid civilian. I've caught pirates before, and I've got people on my ship who've been doing this for years. Everything's documented. She can't _do_ this to me." He was the prince of the Fire Nation. She had no right. But more than that, he was _good_ at this. He knew he could do it, and she was in the way. "The navy doesn't need to keep all the money and resources within the fleet, they'd have more than enough even without catching pirates. Right?"

"I'll take your word for it. Not really what I think about in my spare time."

"So there's no practical reason and no legal reason. She's just doing it because she feels like it." And because apparently the navy wanted to "eliminate" her if she didn't do well enough, but Zuko still wasn't sure exactly what that meant or why the record had said so.

"What exactly are you planning on doing?" Yao paused his smoking and held the cigarette gently between two fingers while looking at Zuko with a mild, half-interested expression.

"I don't know. I need a plan to get around her. To get the upper hand."

_And then what_?

"Hmm."

"I can't think of anything, but I know there has to be a way."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you," said Yao. "It sounds like she runs these waters and I'm just a cavalry officer, not much I can do about what does on offshore."

"Never mind." Zuko turned away. "I didn't want your help anyway."

"Even if there was something I could do, I'm not about to cross her. My bending's decent at best and I've never been that good at dueling."

He did sound apologetic. As far as Zuko was concerned, he could shove it.

"I can figure it out on my own." He always did. And he always would.

"Whatever you say."

This whole situation was just stupid. None of it ever should have happened and Zuko shouldn't have to be thinking about a plan right now. It was all Captain Sun and her meddling. Why couldn't she just let him go on his way? He wasn't getting in anyone's way, he wasn't causing problems, he just wanted to continue his quest and do the things he needed to in order to make it work.

There were a couple of grungy kids and a dog playing in a puddle out in the street. Out further, near the borders of Zhou Station, a few dozen tanks lined up neatly in rows, protected from the worst of the rain and rust by canvas covers. Yao's collar, along with a captain's insignia, bore a device in the shape of a spiked wheel.

"She wants to make it seem like she's perfect, but I know she isn't," Zuko muttered. "She'll have to make a mistake sometime."

Yao rolled his eyes. "You naval officers. So obsessed with perfection."

"Like army officers aren't?"

"Not in the same way, no. See, it's almost expected that you'll lose a tank at some point, but when you lose a _ship_ … it's a lot more serious."

"Yeah. There's more to lose and more to gain. That's why I have to win."

"Do you?"

"Yes. If I don't win, then she does." The knowledge of this prickled under Zuko's collar and made him tense up—he had to get going, he needed a plan, and he couldn't just stand out here doing nothing all night.

There was a brief silence. Yao ground out the remainder of his cigarette beneath his boot heel, but didn't go for another one. "What if no one wins?"

"That's impossible. There's always a winner and there's always a loser. That's life."

_And I'm done being the loser every time_.

"I don't know about that. I can think of a few scenarios where everybody loses."

"Like what?"

"All right. Let's say this whole thing… escalates." Yao paused, and then looked straight at Zuko. His pale, unblinking gaze seemed to bore straight through Zuko's head. "You beat Captain Sun somehow. Sink her ship, defeat her in an Agni Kai, deliver her to the Earth Kingdom, whatever. But in the process, your crew are all killed, you lose both legs, the Fire Lord declares you a traitor and calls for your death—"

"That wouldn't happen."

"Even so. Let's say it does. You can try to fight back at this point, but it's no use. You're alone and crippled, with no allies, nowhere to hide. Eventually you're caught and killed and there's no one left to mourn your death. But still, you got one over a single obnoxious navy captain. It must have been worth it." His voice never left the smooth, slightly bored-sounding monotone.

"That's ridiculous. _You're_ ridiculous."

"Sure, it's pretty over-the-top. I can come up with a more likely one if you want." Yao leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Spare me."

"Very well."

"I have to fight back. I have to." Zuko clenched his fists. "I can't just roll over and submit every time someone gets in my way. That's what everyone wants me to do. They expect it, but I. Will. Never. Give. Up."

"You don't have to. Sometimes just continuing with your life and being successful is the best kind of victory over people who want you to fail. Little fights like this, it's not worth it. Everyone just comes out dirty in the end."

Fire burned in the back of Zuko's throat. "But it still looks like I'm giving up! And she'll _think_ she won!"

"Who cares what she thinks? You've been around the world and seen so many things, and you're letting this bother you? That's so… pedestrian," Yao said with a wrinkled nose and a shrug.

Zuko ground his teeth and clamped down on the fire that was rising in him. It was all just so frustrating. There had to be an answer out there somewhere.

A rabble of loud, drunk soldiers tumbled out of the bar, stumbling and laughing raucously on their way to the next amusement of the night. Yao looked at them with annoyance and jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"Come on, this place was better before everyone started coming here. There's another bar just up the road that I like."

Zuko figured he might as well go with him. He couldn't think of any solutions for his problem and he needed some way to stop thinking about it, at least for a few hours. They set off down the muddy road, away from the main cluster of tents and buildings that made up Zhou Station. Zuko hunched his shoulders against the rain but Yao didn't seem to mind that he was getting wet.

"I was just thinking," he said as they walked. "If you want to write one, I can deliver a letter to Mai from you."

"That's illegal," Zuko said. "For me, you, and her." _It's not like I never thought of trying before._

"It's only illegal if anyone finds out. I have to go back to the Fire Nation next month for my brother's wedding, and I can give it to her then."

Zuko frowned. "I don't want to owe anything to anyone," he muttered.

"You won't, it's not just for you." Yao looked up when he spoke next. "I hate seeing my family, and I couldn't care less about my brother and his stupid fiancee. It would make the trip worthwhile to see Mai so happy. The family hasn't been good to her and she's quite depressed."

"You just told me that going against Captain Sun was too dangerous, and now you want to do _this?_ "

Even so, Zuko's heart was pounding in his chest. The opportunity to send something to Mai… he never thought he'd be able to do it again.

"That's different. I'm discreet enough to pull it off without being caught. Besides, it's stupid that someone who's banished can't even send _letters_ to anyone back home." He smirked. "I'm… selective about the risks I take."

"I don't even know if she wants me to send her a letter," Zuko said, suddenly apprehensive now that it might actually happen.

"Believe me, she does. Oh, here we are," Yao said before long.

The bar was a little out of the way but not too strenuous of a walk from the main road. Sure enough, it wasn't as crowded as the bars in town. Aside from it being quieter, Zuko didn't get why it being less popular made it "better."

There were large round pots with decorative cacti out front and leaflets advertising over-the-top melancholy plays and poetry readings pasted just inside the door. The clientele was mostly young, bored-looking officers like Yao.

"They brew something really good here," he said. "It's pretty obscure, you probably haven't heard of it. It's a secret blend. I swear there's something funny in it… goes down like candy, but after a few glasses, well, sometimes you lose track of the time."

Everyone in the bar seemed to know Yao and greeted him with disaffected nods when they walked in. He strode up to the bar with Zuko.

"Captain Yao! Welcome back," the bartender said when they took seats. She had large jade plugs in her ears and a tattoo of a spider on the back of her right hand.

"Solitude makes me drink," Yao said flatly. "I'll pay for everyone here right now, plus a bottle for us." He pulled out another cigarette and lit it while the bartender set out two ceramic cups, poured them full of a clear green liquor, and set the bottle on the bar. Zuko looked around and saw only the same kind of unmarked bottles behind the counter, and none of the usual selections.

"No word from Deng, then?"

"Not for a few weeks." Yao took a sip. Zuko looked down into his own cup, considered the alcohol, and then smelled it carefully. It was almost like pine needles, or something more exotic that he couldn't quite place. He could have sworn the vapors were dissolving his nose hairs.

He took an experimental sip. Yao was right, it was smooth and sweet, almost juicy, but he couldn't figure out exactly _what_ it tasted like.

"How much longer are you two on separate assignments?"

"Four months, eighteen days."

"That's tough."

Zuko tipped the cup back and emptied it in one gulp. It was _really good_. Didn't burn at all. Yao turned to look at him with an odd expression on his face and the bartender raised an eyebrow.

"Careful there," she said. Zuko ignored her, and she went to check on another patron. He refilled his cup—Yao still had at least half of his first left.

He didn't _want_ to be a drunkard. He'd seen enough of that from his crew and more often than not he skipped alcohol altogether. But sometimes, he wanted to escape.

He'd managed to stop thinking about Sun for only a few minutes since leaving the first bar, when Yao started talking about taking a letter to Mai. Now that they were here, he was thinking about Sun again. It felt better to feel the anger course through him, to run through thoughts of how he might be able to stay here and use the port and catch pirates all he wanted, without her being able to do anything about it. Nothing came to mind, but just the thought of her face when he _won_ …

Zuko was done with his second cup by the time Yao finished his first and lit a fresh cigarette.

Yao poured his cup full again and looked on with a slightly pained twist to his mouth when Zuko took a third and immediately drank half of it.

"Taste good?"

"Yeah," Zuko said. He was starting to feel it, definitely. It was like parts of him wanted to float off, and other pars were about to melt. It wasn't a thing like how he felt when he'd gotten drunk before. There was definitely something funny in the drink, but he didn't care. It tasted good and it felt good. It was strong and maybe it would help him think, or not think at all.

Who cared what Yao thought of him right now. Or anyone else. Or Sun, for that matter. He hated thinking about what he was going to do, but he couldn't help it.

He finished the cup. His vision was too bright, a little dark around the edges, a little slanted. Everything was off.

"Whoa, your eyes are really dilated," Yao said, squinting at Zuko's face. "You should probably take it easy."

"Shhhhut up," Zuko snapped. Or tried to snap, his mouth was watering and his tongue seemed to be ignoring him. His mind had gone fuzzy. He was vaguely aware that he was angry, or something like it, and he couldn't help it. Why was he angry? He hadn't been a second ago.

"I told you, this stuff is really strong." Yao looked wobbly around the edges, like he was underwater. "You're just supposed to sip it. Not guzzle it down."

"I want'a get drunk."

"Believe me, you can get plenty drunk _taking your time._ "

"NO." Zuko slapped his hand down on the bar. He grabbed for the bottle and managed to empty the remains into his cup, even though he was starting to sway and he wasn't sure which of the cups in front of him was real.

"Prince Zuko. I brought you here because it seemed fun." Through the haze, Yao sounded like his speech was a little slurred as well. "Not so you could drown your problems."

"I _wish_ I could drown my problems! I want to drown Captain Sun!"

"You probably shouldn't say that out loud."

"Shtop telling me what I 'should' do!" Zuko picked up his cup and knocked back the last of his drink. "I can do whatever I want!"

Cigarette dangling from his mouth, Yao gripped Zuko's shoulders. "Don't make this bad," he said. "It doesn't have to be bad. Just calm down."

"Don't touch me!"

He jerked away. There was some small spark, some seed of rational thought left in him, just lucid enough to tell him that he was ruining it. He was ruining everything, like he always did, and he couldn't even help it. He half-stepped, half-stumbled off the bar stool and lurched toward the door. He couldn't see the rest of the bar, none of the patrons, nothing else.

"Zuko?"

That was Yao's voice calling after him. Zuko didn't look back. He headed out into the rainy darkness, not knowing where he was going or what he was doing. Everything looked strange. He wasn't sure which way was up. He couldn't balance, he couldn't think, he just walked and walked until Yao's voice and the sound of his footsteps faded away.

* * *

Zuko woke up with his cheek pressed against a cold, grimy stone wall. His head felt like he'd been bashing it against the wall for hours and his mouth tasted like dirty laundry. Everything around him smelled like piss and sweaty feet and winey vomit. Someone else was snoring wetly a few feet away.

He tried to sit upright and failed. He rested his cheek against the wall and closed his eyes. The room would stop spinning any moment, he just needed to get his bearings… and maybe some water…

A door squealed open, sending a bright beam of light across Zuko's face. It was then that Zuko cracked open his eyes and noticed the black iron bars between him and the door.

Jail. Great.

A tall, dark silhouette came in and slammed the door shut. Zuko's head felt like it was going to burst. A pair of heavy boots crossed the floor and Zuko might have made another effort to sit up, but all he really wanted to do was pass out again until he could think and breathe without pain.

"Well, look who turned up in my harbor again." A ball of fire flared to life and came to float over Captain Sun's shoulder. She stared down at Zuko with eyes shrouded in darkness and hands planted on her hips. "Isn't this… fortunate."

Zuko glared up at her. He tried to snap back, but all the words in his mind were still floating in a pool of alcohol. All he managed was a sloppy "you."

"Yes, _me_." Sun's grin widened. Her sharp white teeth gleamed in the firelight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Is this cactus wine locally sourced?" #ShitYaoSays


End file.
